West Atlanta Love Letter

Cashy,

For years I watched you be everyone’s type but your own. Always critical. Always picking. Body shaming yourself. Yet miraculously finding the beauty and joy and wonder in absolutely everything else.

Then one day you changed. You saw what everyone else saw and you loved it. Now you still kill me with your body dysmorphia (can a suicide survivor say “you kill me” to themselves? .... just did) but you don’t want to change. You’ve accepted. You still notice things but that swag you have now is sheer acceptance. Very c’est la vie of you!

You’ve accepted your freckles that you once tried to cover, as seasoning for your face to make you spicy; your smile that’s not picture perfect white yet the brightest in every room; your laugh that frequently comes with secret farts, snorts, burps and anything that tickles you to tears; which brings me to your emotions and the roller coaster ride they are, that makes you scream and cry and cover your eyes all to say you loved it when it’s over; your jokes that are so clever no one else gets them because honestly you’re light years ahead of everyone (except Robert who tries equally as “clever” stuff out on you); your legs, which now are unfortunately touching, fortunately after the half marathon goal they carried you to and through; your hair, although idk what the heck you are ever doing with it, does the most and the least simultaneously and you just let it; your personality which boy oh boy....... was so hard to uncover because all of them were trying to take center stage until you realized you're just a whole lot of wonderful! But most importantly sis, you accepted your will. Your will to live when you wanted to die. Your will to fight for others to know they weren’t alone. Your will to save a life! Your will to truly fly and be free in this world that tried to tame you and shame you. The will that’s deep down inside of you and shines as a love so pure, honest, and true.

You are love. You love everyone greatly, now including you.