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We are worth more than diamond rings on our fingers.
We are worth more than a down payment on a home.
We are worth more than feeling pressured to put babies in our bellies before we get to run naked through oceans—before we get to climb volcanoes at sunrise with strangers and a cup of Costa Rican coffee in our hands.
We are worth more than being in relationships with those we do not love because we’ve allowed society to trick us into thinking another beating heart will make our own more complete.
We are worth more than needing pieces of paper to prove our intelligence.
We are worth more than the cars we drive and the walls we inhabit.
We are worth more than worrying about whether we have a date for the wedding. Us standing tall, like mountains, is as perfect as it gets.
We are worth more than thinking our worth is defined by a life with another.
We are worth more than the number in our bank accounts and every single belonging we own.
We are stardust. We are sunshine. We are the blossoms that bloom and die—again and again, and again.
We are worth more.