I love you. I know you don't believe me, but it's true. I do. I've loved you from your very first breath, and I will love you until your last. Even beyond that, wherever you go, I will follow you, and love you still. You, more than anyone else in the whole wide world. Every piece of you. I love you when you're trying new things, riding that wave of adventure and curiosity. I love you when you're building on skills you already have. I love you when you're trembling with nerves, but power through and sing in front of all those people anyway, or smash that spider anyway, or take a deep breath and fill out that dreadful, super adulty tax form anyway. I still love you the times when you let your fear get the best of you and run away, or turn down an opportunity, or float at the top of the water during a scuba *diving* expedition. I love you even when you're sleeping, dreaming up insane things. I'm right there with you, holding a spray can full of magical bubbles meant to defeat the tax-form-breathing dragon made of rocks and needles, or piloting the helicopter we're about to jump out of in order to test out your newly formed wings. You will fly, by the way. I know you're afraid, but you can do it. You only need believe. Until then, I believe in you. I see how truly amazing you are. How utterly, devastatingly, all-consumingly magnificent. I see you, and I love you. Why don't you believe me? Why don't you listen to me? Why don't you love me back? You're too busy paying attention to her. The mean one. The cruel one. The petty, everything's wrong one. Why do you even give her the time of day? She makes you unhappy—miserable, even. Worse yet, she doesn't just bring you down. She brings down everyone around you, too. The people you love. She yells at your kids, with their big eyes and even bigger hearts. Scoffs at your Atlas while he holds up your world. She does all this, all the while making you feel like you can't do anything to stop her, no matter how hard you may try. She keeps you down. Beats you, bends you and breaks you into this small, wretched creature. This powerless thing—only because you've given her all your power. Handed it over piece by piece, a little more each day. It's this vicious cycle where you see what she's doing, you see the damage she's caused and continues to cause, and you try to stop her in her tracks, but she's too strong. She knows you too well. She knows all your weaknesses, knows exactly which buttons to push to put you right back in your place. You hate her. I know. I understand. But hate is not the answer, Beautiful. You know what the answer is. When you look in the mirror and you see her, keep looking. Keep looking, until you see me, too. I'm right here, waiting for you. Waiting for you to see me. To love me, like I love you. Give me your attention. Give me your time, your thoughts, your trust. Give me your hopes and dreams, your fears and anxieties, your insecurities, your weaknesses and your strengths. I know what to do. When she points out failings—in yourself or others—I will flood you with gratitude. I will notice the small treasures in life, frame them and light them, for you to cherish them, too. Where she builds walls around you to trap you, I will give you those wings you dream of, to soar through the sky. I will give you everything you dream of. Together, we can accomplish anything. I just know it. You only need to trust in me, and I in you. We'll take the world by storm. When you give her your power, she hoards it away from you. Give me your power, and I will let you keep it. I will use it to build you up, up, up, to be the majestic creature I know you to be. I will teach you how to forgive and be kind to yourself. How to love yourself. I will even teach you how to love her, because you know what? I love her, too. Yes, you heard me. I love her, too. Do you know how I do it? It's easy, really, so much easier than you would think. I love her, because she is you, and I love you. Just like you are her, and you are me. I know you like to separate us. You think of her as your "worst self," and me as your "best self," but the truth is, we're all just you. Hurting and healing, breaking and growing, struggling and thriving, you. Curled up in a ball crying, or roaring your victory to the sky. All. You. Flawed and human; a spectacular, powerful soul. Just love me, please, like I love you. Love me, and you will love yourself. Love yourself, and anything—anything—is possible. Love, You