Boudicca - letter to my teenage self

A letter to my teenaged self.

Hey...let's face it...you're crazy.
And not the quirky "she wears high heels when she exercises" crazy.
You are legitimately holy hell somebody needs to exorcise these demons crazy.
And don't worry...you will someday.
But for now, that's why you can't smile even though you want to
the tears are just the caboose at the end of a long train of things you don't understand about yourself.
DO NOT wear it like a choke chain collar of shame
don't give them something to latch on to...something to hook you to so you can pull their pride.
Do not allow them to treat you like a gas station snow globe...you are neither replaceable nor cheap.

You don't have an inner goddess
so stop looking for her
You got a warrior...instead.
Boudicca a bad ass chick lives
in your blood....under your skin.
FEEL her battle cry echo across centuries and vibrate off the rungs of the twisted helix called your DNA.
She is your history
She is your future.
Your hands are clean now but her initials will be carved in every scar and callous
Her name will be on the lips of your struggles
Her eyes are what you see in the mirror
let the green there be the flag you fly in times triumph.
And in times of sorrow, feel her strength seep into your bones and her hand close around your spine.

Know this...
Your name isn't ...nor has it ever been...Bitch.

When that name leaves their lips...and it will...let Boudicca fill your heart, invoke her name
let the raging wind from a time long ago chase shadowed chariots through your hair
Let their bones be frozen by the bitter cold of something to fight for.
Let the passed shine through your eyes
So they know if they fuck with you
they fuck with the whole tribe.

You are not helpless, despite the myth poured into your ear every night.
You have a heart and lungs and fists
You are NOT the sum of your parts
You are part of something bigger than anyone can understand.
You live in the present
and carry the passed in your blood
and love in your hands.

They will tell you that you are silence.
They will tell you to smile when he compares you to the Mona Lisa because its easier than searching the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel for your face.
You are not the Mona Lisa...you are her secret.
She smiles because she knows exactly where to find you...look up.. halfway between God and the Universe.
Don't you dare waste your love on someone unwilling to look.
Because you are worth more than a cliche halfassed half recycled poem drowned in cheap body spray and written on the back of another girls phone number.

No one understands you because you don't understand yourself.
One day they will.
One day YOU will.
And if in the midst of it all
loneliness shame fear the big bad wolfe
are beating at the walls of your heart ...
and the spear feels too heavy...
feel the hands of a warrior wrap around yours....and strike