Don't Forget to be Awesome

To the little boy writing poetry in seat 17C:

I’m sorry your brothers made fun of you.

 I’m sorry your mom warned you to “stop that, it’s embarrassing.”

Adults aren’t supposed to say this, but it’s cool because I’m not actually an adult (I just look like one; I’m about 15 years old, on the inside): sometimes grown-ups invent stupid rules because they’re blinded by their own insecurities.

Yep. That’s a mouthful. But let me break it down.

Grown-ups don’t know everything.

So when your mother says that you’re doing something wrong or drawing negative attention to yourself, that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s true.

Of course, there are times when she might be right. Now and then, your heart might lead you down a dangerous path. Foolish decisions can be so appealing; occasionally it’s tempting to do something that you know is going to hurt others.

But there are also times when your heart is going to speak so loudly and so eloquently that even you will be surprised.

Look, I’m just here to serve pretzels and make sure everyone arrives in Raleigh safely.

Nobody asked for my advice. In fact, nobody even batted an eye when I walked past (except for the guy in the exit row, but he’s been reading Maxim the whole flight and hasn’t turned the page once. He’s stuck on one particular “article,” if you know what I mean…).

So feel free to dismiss my dime-store psychology.

But, if you choose to hear the words I’m whispering into the universe, please remember this: you are allowed to express yourself in ways that others might not understand.

Poetry is not “girly.”

It’s not embarrassing, or pointless, or weird.

It doesn’t mean that you’re gay (although if you are, that’s perfectly fine).

It doesn’t mean you’re anything less than awesome.

In fact, I am inspired by your hand-written poem. I write poems too, although mine are often scribbled on paper towels and napkins. Yours looks so neat, inside that green notebook. You’ve got impressive handwriting, my friend.

Keep being you.

Keep doing your thing; you’re good at it.

And if people can’t handle your awesome quirks, it’s their loss.

 

Love,
Lisa
(a.k.a. the flight attendant wearing the huge zombie pin)