You Are Not Wrong

Don’t look in the mirror yet.

Instead I want you to close your eyes, I want you to imagine what you look like on the inside.  Forget the outside, for now,

and furrow your brow as you think long and hard about who you are.

Take your fingers and trace over every scar.  Let your mind wander to those far places where there wasn’t enough space for you, where every box squeezed and forced you out.

Or maybe you just barely fit and are still trying to live with it—the way a part of you, some essential element, got damaged between the door and the frame of rooms that never left you the same.

I want you to think about everyone who ever said or did anything that made you feel less, even if just by a little. And I want you to repeat after me:

“I am not wrong.”

For your plus-sized profile, bright eyes, and daring smile—you are not wrong.

For bearing the pain of loss and hate, and feeling angry at apologies that came more than a little too late—you are not wrong.

For loving who and how you do, not because you choose but because it’s something you can’t refuse—you are not wrong.

For God so loved you, His Beautiful Beloved, that He sent His one and only Son so that you might believe: you are not wrong.

Now I want you to look in the mirror.  I want you to see what He sees.  And repeat after me:

“I am not wrong.  I am loved.”

You bring hope and life to others even when you don’t think you can cope with your own trials—you are not wrong, you are loved.

You seek friends who will accept and support you while letting go of the ones who don’t encourage you to become who you are—you are not wrong, you are loved.

You make mistakes and sometimes you’re afraid of change but you chase your dreams all the same because you believe in brighter days—you are not wrong, you are loved.

So take you heart and hope and put them in my hands, and I’ll give you mine.  Now, I want you to say it with me this time, as we stand sure in our identities and against our enemies:

“I am not wrong.  I am loved, and I am not alone.”


About thefreescribbler

My life is one of words. I am a scribbler, whose thoughts are best expressed through adjectives and phrases and punctuation marks. I would not go so far as to call myself a writer, although many would disagree. I’m characterized more by my unfinished works and half-embodied ideas, scraps of stories and parts of poems. Maybe one day I’ll be a writer, but I’m okay with being a scribbler right now. It fits my personality and style, and best expresses my aims. I’m not trying to create some lofty version of literature. I’m just a kid blogging about life. View all posts by thefreescribbler

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