Guard your comfort my dear, guard your heart. As the sailor takes locks of hair, and prisons a piece of cloth or picture. The wealthy have overbought and undersold their memories. Even if they duplicate your treasures, they still will never love them for the reasons you have learned to love them. It’s a painful mistake on her part, to try and become someone just because that someone may be happier, prettier, truly more free. But she will never learn that. And out of everything you can give her, you cannot teach her to love herself. She is Midas an a world of unpolished gold. And you are a goddess with no care for shiny things. Be flattered my dear, because your beautiful soul is sparkling never the less. And she sees it. And can’t stand that with all of her riches she can’t buy your happiness. I think you are the kindest soul I can’t ever meet. And if guarding your simple joys is the only wrong you are doing, then you are more noble than I. You deserve your treasures. I will give you a chest with lock and key. And I will help you fill it with goodness. If you don’t want me to know where you have buried that, I will respect that too. Just remember that no money can buy a shovel long enough to dig down into your heart. Hell or high water, my love. You are so big in my world.
—Schuylar Croom (via simonpeterford)
