For The Girl Who Needs To Delete The Phone Number

Some days I wake up and all I can think is…

I just wanna write pretty words that mean something to somebody. Just speak a little truth, drink a lot of coffee, travel the world, meet a lot of beautiful souls, hike a few mountains, cry a few (million) tears, survive a few broken hearts, and chase the wind. Write until there’s nothing left in me to pour out. Plan road trips around worship playlists. Pack every single one of my friends in the car with me. Family in the front seat. Faith that the next stop, next journey, next word would be laid out before me. Change the world a little bit. Change one person’s world entirely. Trust that I’ve got all the power in me to make big leaps. Take big chances. Live with abandon. Write to compose an epic love letter to Jesus, to life, to the people who make this life worth living. Appreciate the little moments. Smile even through the hardest ones. Take lots of photos. Then pour another cup of coffee, and write a little more.

Can someone help me figure out how to turn than into real life? Only partially kidding. Ok, not really kidding at all. Got ideas? I’m all ears. Shoot me a line.
Sounds pretty great, right? Maybe a consequence of a weekend full of travel and bliss… but some days I’m like, why don’t I just do it? Chase that dream, write, hustle harder than I’ve ever hustled before. People are expecting you to do big things. This is your chance. Take big risks, go out on a limb, fight for what you care about. What inspires you. Do what drives you. Write things that’ll matter to people. Convince women to see themselves the way other people do, instead of how they see themselves in the mirror. To respect, to adore and to believe in beauty and grace.
But then there’s that voice that’s like…
Sure, that’d wouldn’t be too much of a surprise. People expect that of you. They’re expecting you to succeed. They’re rooting for you. So what if you fail? What if you fall flat on your face? And the whole world sees? And you run out of money, but even worse, you run out of words and your dreams die quicker than you ever thought possible? And you don’t know as much as you think you do. And you’ve really got very little authority to speak into people’s lives. Cause you’ve got experiences, yes, but you’ve barely lived. You haven’t even had your heart broken before. Doesn’t every great writer know heartbreak? What if no one reads? What if it’s like shouting into a void? Cause that’s a harsh truth.
 
It’s a voice of insecurity and fear, but also of security and comfort. One that knows sometimes you’ve got to be a little realistic. One that believes in dreams but also believes that dreams are for days and years when you’ve already got a solid footing and plan and back up in place. Probably not for year 22.
——————————————————-
In the back of my head, I’m like… crap, I know that voice. That voice is like that phone number you know you should delete. The one with the boy on the other end who knows just how much to play you so you stay interested. The one who waits an hour to text back, and doesn’t bother to answer your questions. The one who knows you’ll answer him. The one who drives you insane a little bit, but you can’t let yourself let go of. Because he still answers sometimes. And it makes you feel good to see that text message notification. To know he thinks enough of you to text back. To feel that little slice of hope that convinces some piece of you he’s still interested. And to think that if you just hold on, wait it out, he’ll come calling your name. It’ll finally be your turn.
The comfort in knowing that voice is there on the other end. Speaking back to you. Feeling terrified to let it go. Terrified of what it means to forget comfortable and stand up for yourself. But knowing that sometime soon, it just might have to happen. You’re going to have to delete the number. You’re going to have to delete that voice in your head telling you to hold on a minute, just wait a little longer, wait for me. Because that boy might keep calling every once and a while, but he’s not going to make you happy in the end. In fact, he’s probably just a distraction. Think of how far you could travel without him. The things you could do, learn on your own. The things you’d learn about yourself. The chances you’d get to finally live a little bit. Be scared a little bit. Embrace the fear and mistakes and insecurity and everything else that comes with letting go.
Let the voice go.
Delete the number.
Trust me.
XOXO
Meg
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