the halfway mark

There was a time when I didn't have to write my name down before I forgot what it was. When I didn't have to write down where I was and what I was doing. I carry around a small notebook with me now, my name, address, phone number, so I know that it is me. That I am still here, though I don't really know what that means anymore. If I were to write you the story of my life, I would tell you to choose one thing. Give yourself over to it. Completely. Don't waste your youth. Love your body. Love yourself. Dream big and whittle down your doubts. Absorb everything and run everywhere. This is the culmination of everything I have been trying to tell you all these years: when I was a young girl I met a boy who gave me everything. And one day, he gave me a box wrapped with a big yellow bow and when I opened it, I found nothing inside. You see, his definition of love was reaching a silent understanding. So darling, this is the point of everything: if I were to give you an empty box, I would tell you exactly what was inside.