Don't.

Cling to the stars
Gaze up, crane your neck, feel the weight
Your hair in its lopsided ponytail
(No matter what they tell you
nothing decrees that
you must have it perfectly centered, or straight)
Paint your nails-- some, or half, or one, or all--
Whatever your heart desires
Put art on your fingers and the toes of your
Bare feet, pressed against slanted ceilings
As the smell of wood fires drifts through the screen
In, like the breath the world takes
As it wakes, rising in the morning
With gentle blue-toned shadows
And whispers of tires on pavement
Even before the sun

Get up
Early enough to breathe
And don't make your bed
(Unless it will make you happy when you return)
Get dressed
Wear clothes that make you admire yourself
In mirrors, windows, reflections on the train
(It is not vain to love the way you look
nor in vain if it makes
the weight of your heart a little bit lighter to bear)

Press your hand to the glass when it rains
And your nose to the pane when it snows
Or better yet
Go out through the door
Hold hands with the universe
Dance to the time of the storm, or
Reach high, clasp palms, and twirl with the sun
Spun in the wind
Whichever the day warrants
(There will be days that warrant one
or the other, or both,
or something else entirely.)

You'll know, so don't worry.
Don't worry about up, that unattainable goal.
Don't grow up.
Just grow.