PerlaDorArt

i. To the boy who prefers spending Friday nights at home: the world does not understand how beautiful silence sounds sometimes. As you crack open that book you've been waiting to read,  or plug in your computer,    or listen to music,      or,         or,            or, or maybe just stare at the night sky from your bedroom window- (please) remember what everyone else seems to forget; that being alone does not always equal lonely-- and that sometimes no company is the best company there is. ii. To the girl who does not speak up in class: I was once you. You are not deficient, I promise, despite everyone telling you otherwise.

When I was little, I loved sea foam.   Running forward to the shore, I would watch waves lap up at my feet and then recede, dragging the sand under my feet back with it. Sea foam would fringe the edges of these silky waves like lace, and I would grab at it, cup it in my hands. I would remember the origins of Aphrodite (born of sea foam, risen out of the ocean as the most beautiful goddess of all), and I would cradle it, hold it close to me, as if I could absorb it into my being.   By the time I brought the sea foam up to my face, it had leaked through my fingers, dissolved. Leaning down, I would cup it again and again and again, gathering fra