I am not here to fix anything.
It is not my job.
It is not why I am here.

I am here to tell you
That it is okay to not be your best.
There will be mornings
when you will open your eyes and know
right away
Just how bad the day will be.

And that's okay.
You are okay
when you collapse under the stares of people on the street
when you hyperventilate on the subway
and when you consider
an eight hour shift, a 10-page essay, or a judgmental friend
the worst thing that could possibly happen.

Mama never said there'd be days like this:
When every little worry grows
under supernatural lamp light;
because they were her secret.
These little multiplying monsters,
they're everyone's secret.

But I'd like to share mine with you.

Sometimes
I want to be pathetic, laughable, and supremely odd.
Because I've had days
which felt like death
for no reason at all.

I've been yelled at, with marvelous power,
by the man who works at the bodega
down the street
and worried about it for days.

I've launched a string of terrifying mathematical torrents
every night
I couldn't find the 8 hours I was looking for.

I've tortured myself over B minuses,
screamed at slow traffic
cried during Disney movies
sulked over cold pasta
fretted about a stain on my shoe
and hated myself for eating two extra potato chips.

I have buried myself
under a mountain of stress-pebbles,
convinced each one was a boulder.

So it's okay
when you're all alone
and an adult is the last thing you feel like.

When you are sweating, hungry, and sobbing
in front of a half-finished paper
at 4 in the morning,
say to yourself:

"It is okay to feel lost."

There will always be a part of you
hoping for someone to wrap a blanket around you, hand you some tea
and tell you tomorrow will be better.
But they probably won't.
And tomorrow might not be better.
And that's okay.

You will be lost
and worried, and depressed, and exhausted,
but you won't stay that way.
And you won't be alone.

When your small sailboat is tipping and drowning
amid rough seas and sharp winds,
someone will throw you a line,
tie their ship to yours,
and you will float a little easier.

But until they do, remember this:
you are but one of many troubled sailors
searching for simpler skies.
You will reach them.
It has been done, is being done, and will continue to be done every day.

Eventually, when you have left the fog and foam
and thunderclouds behind,
you will be amazed at how far you've come.

So it's okay to feel lost,
to feel little,
to cry and scream and sleep too much
over little things now and again.

But don't give up when you do.
You are always floating forward,
sailing onward,
and this storm is only so large.

Even when you don't want to,
stay afloat.
These waters may be rough,
but you were born to ride their waves.