A Realization of Some Sorts

It took me some time to realize that I DON'T have to live up to anybody's expectations.
I am my own person, and I don't have to resemble the person beside me, the person breathing next to me, because I can be the snow in the mountain peaks in Italy when it's January, or the melody in someone's voice. People often want to see wonder in someone, trying to grasp something, but when we look into someone's eyes we only see our reflection and that's the best kind of wisdom I can offer you. We are never too diminutive, never too insignificant. You could be an ant in another life and you would still be important. There will always be purpose, no matter what you were told to believe in, what adults have spun in your head as you grew out of your favorite Mickey Mouse blouse and into prom dresses. Nobody's standards will ever fit you, because you're designed to shrug the limits, the burdens, the heavy weight of numbers, off of your shoulders and live. You don't have to be anybody for anybody. You don't have to wake up and impress the boys you think you're ought to be pretty for. You're a breathtaking piece of art, yes, but you're also a human being with emotions and thoughts and complexity and no set of algorithms is going to solve you. You. Are. That significant to me. To everybody who knows you. Don't be angry if the people around you misunderstand you because they don't deserve your anger. They don't deserve your anything, then.