Little girl,

Don’t put those glass slippers on your feet. They don’t fit. They don’t belong. I know how much you long to be a damsel in distress, like those girls in cupcake dresses whose lives are always a mess until their prince seals their fate with pretty words and a kiss. Don’t envy those girls trapped in the TV screen. They don’t exist. Don’t put those glass slippers on your feet. They will break and cut your skin. This is the start of a long journey, and your path calls for hiking shoes.

Little girl, you have so many thoughts. They bounce around inside your skull like ping-pong balls. Take off your shoes, just for a moment. Press your feet into the soil. Inhale. Exhale. I will teach you how to ground yourself.

Put your shoes on. Do not be timid. Where we’re going, “shy” does not exist. You are not shy. You are brilliant and audacious and someone—something—has stolen your voice. Raise your hand and speak before someone speaks for you. You don’t have time to lose yourself.

Little girl, feel your emotions and feel them fully. Don’t bottle them up. If something rattles you, they will sizzle and foam until you explode. If you feel weary, find a patch of soft grass. Sprawl out and cry. Tear the grass up with your hands. I want to see dirt under your nails. Kick the air like it hurt you and twist and writhe till your body goes limp. Where we’re going, big girls must learn to cry.

If on this journey you see a flower you like, don’t just walk past it. Stop and admire it. Tuck it into your pocket. Pluck the petals and drop them on the ground like fairy dust. Or share the flower with someone you love. This is a rocky, barren path. You must be gracious. If the earth offers you a gift for your troubles, bow your head to the ground and thank it.

Little girl, I know you’re aching to see the end of this path. Walk slower now. This is not a journey to be completed, this is a journey to be enjoyed. Because once it ends, this path will disappear and you will never find your way back. I beg you to gather every flower you find and make bouquets out of them. Use your voice, raise it. Louder. Feel the grass. Feel every bruised knee and broken heart and warm embrace. Because one day this path will end, and there will be no trace.

Little girl, put on your hiking shoes.

Style Score: 100%

Dear Past Me,

Look at you—trying so hard, carrying so much. I see you. I know how heavy it’s been. But I need you to know something: you don’t have to stay here.
You’ve already taken the first step toward change, and that alone is something to be proud of. Now, it’s time to let go, unlearn, and grow.
I know—it’s easier said than done. But aren’t you worth it? Aren’t you tired of feeling stuck, trapped in the same cycle, falling back into bad habits shaped by TV, music, and the world around you? And it’s not just that. Think about the habits you absorbed from your family—the ones you didn’t even realize were shaping you until you got older.
But here’s the truth: you don’t have to carry that anymore. Let go of the hurt. Let go of the regrets. Let go of the belief that you always have to be perfect. Take accountability for your life, but also give yourself grace. Do the work, not because you have to, but because you deserve to be free.
Get back to the things that bring you joy—singing, dancing, moving your body, and breathing deeply. Let your inner child run free—she’s been waiting for you. And if anyone is watching? Let them. She deserves to be seen. You deserve to be seen.
Be present. No more letting intrusive thoughts steal your joy—the day, the hour, the minute, the second. You’ve lost too much time to them already. A small inconvenience does not have the power to ruin your day unless you give it permission. Choose peace. Choose happiness. Choose yourself. But most of all, choose God—because He has already chosen you. When the weight feels too heavy, remember you don’t carry it alone. He is with you, guiding every step.
If you can’t control it, let it go. Give it to God. Release it. Lighten your load. You deserve to feel free. Your fiancé, kids, friends, family, and even that no-good job will benefit from a happier, lighter version of you. But the one who will benefit the most? You.
You only have one life to live, and God has already written a beautiful story for you. Don’t let fear or doubt keep you from stepping into it. Trust in His timing, His plan, and His love. There’s still so much left in you—especially when you get back to doing what makes you feel alive. Don’t wait until it’s too late, looking back at a life filled with “would’ve,” “should’ve,” and “could’ve.” You already have a few—you don’t need more.
So start today. Slight changes, big impact.
You don’t have to have it all figured out—just take the first step, trust God, and trust yourself. He already knows the path ahead. Surrender it all to Him, and the rest will follow.
Now is your time. You’re ready. Step into the life you were meant to live.

I love you.

Style Score86%

It’s been ten years,
Yet we still pretend.

We hold a smile,
When it’s asked for.

We do as we’re told,
Even though we hate it.

And everywhere we go,
It’s all the same.

Everywhere, we go,
It’s the same.

It’s been ten years.
We’re still pretending.

To the Girl Who Still Had to Learn to Be Free,

I see you—curled small, a whisper in a crowded room, a ghost in your own life. You fold yourself into corners, silent, unseen, hoping the world will pass without asking too much of you. I see the weight of your silence, the way it presses into your ribs, how you carry it like armor, mistaking it for safety. But silence is not a shield—it is a cage. And, my love, you were never meant to live caged.

You were taught that smallness is survival, that bending keeps you from breaking, that love is something earned in quiet obedience. But love should not feel like holding your breath. Love should not be bought with suffering.

I wish I could tell you that the road ahead is smooth, that you will wake up one morning and simply feel free. But healing is not a straight path—it is winding, tangled, a forest of echoes and shadows. Some nights, fear will creep in like fog, curling around your ankles, whispering that you are not enough, that you never were. But I promise you, fear is a liar. And you are not made of whispers—you are made of storms.

There will be days when old ghosts knock at your door. Days when your body remembers before your mind does—when hands from the past still linger on your skin, when voices once cruel still hum in your ears. These days will be hard. You will wonder if you are doomed to carry them forever. But hear me:
You are not their hands.
You are not their words.
You are not the things they did to you.
You are something far, far greater.

There will be a morning when you wake, and for the first time in years, the air does not feel heavy. A moment when laughter escapes your lips and does not feel borrowed. A day when you catch your reflection and do not see damage, but resilience—when you see not a survivor, but a warrior, a creator, a force. You will come to know that healing does not mean forgetting, nor does it mean erasing the past. Healing is learning to live despite it, to grow around the scars, to bloom in the ruins, wild and untamed.

I wish you could see us now. Standing tall, laughing loud, wearing colours that once felt too bold, speaking truths that once felt too dangerous. I have found joy, not because the world became gentler, but because I did. Because I learned that the softness I once feared was not weakness, but power.

You will unlearn the shame they fed you. You will stop seeing yourself through the eyes of those who broke you and start seeing yourself through the eyes of the one who healed you. And that one, my love, is you.

One day, you will stand in a room full of people, and your voice will not shake. You will speak, and they will listen—not because you have finally become enough for them, but because you have finally realized you were always enough for yourself.

And when the past comes knocking, as it sometimes will, you will no longer answer. You will no longer open the door. You will not let old wounds write your future.

One day, you will write this letter—not as a plea, not as a promise, but as a testament. A declaration that you have returned to yourself. That you have come home, at last.

With love you always deserved,
From the Me Who Finally Knows

ProWritingAid Style Score: 80%

A letter to my childhood:
You are so lucky.
You’re smarter than even you know.
You are so loved. 
Hug your parents more.
Hug your grandparents more.
Hug everyone you love more. 
Don’t take family for granted; you’ll miss them when they go.
Know that you are safe, even when the words don’t always make you feel that way.
Read everything; it makes you happy.
Never stop learning.
Don’t let mom cut your hair…

A letter to my teens:
You don’t have to look like everyone else; embrace your individuality.
You shouldn’t cry just because you have a healthy human body.
Love yourself, especially when it feels like no one else will. 
Your voice matters, so keep writing; use it to get everything out.
Someday someone will want to hear it.
Keep reading; it still makes you happy.
Cherish your childishness; hold it close for as long as you can.
Don’t date the bad boy; even when he’s better, he still won’t be good for you. 
I know it’s not just a phase, but sometimes it is.
And didn’t we already say don’t let mom cut your hair?

A letter to my 20s:
Your body will never be the same; the accident made sure of that.
But remember we said not to cry about being in a healthy human body 
Why did you stop reading if it made you happy?
It’s okay to like things he doesn’t; you don’t have to force yourself to fit him.
Complacency is not contentment, and contentment is not joy.
You are not stuck.
You owe nothing to anyone.
Letting go isn’t failure or weakness or selfishness.
You don’t have to go back to something that doesn’t work just to make sure it still doesn’t work.
And isn’t there anyone you can trust with your hair?!

A letter to my 30s:
Alcohol doesn’t make things fun after you wake up sober.
Being single is hard, but dating is harder.
You are not cut out for online dating.
Passion can be fleeting, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it.
Remember, though, that butterflies are actually anxiety. 
Excuses are not attractive.
Young is dumb, and dumb is dangerous.
Looking is not liking, and it most certainly is not love.
You still shouldn’t date the bad boy. 
You already know how to let go. 
You’re an adult, and it’s time to figure out how to be one on your own.
And, no, there’s no one you can trust with your hair.

A letter to this past year:
Therapy works.
Just because your anxiety was right before doesn’t mean it always is.
Peace is paradise, not boredom. 
Stillness and solitude are the sacred foundations for your creativity.
Travel is more than just a temporary escape from life.
You are a professional, and you deserve to take up qualified space.
You can write.
You can share.
You can be part of a safe community.
You can learn to build a better life outside of what you’ve always known.
Live at your own pace.
Move your body in ways that make you smile.
Enjoy your food, and let it nourish you, too.
Learn to trust and love again; he’s worth it.
And bless all that is holy because we finally found someone who knows what to do with your hair!

A letter to the future:
Progress isn’t linear. 
You’re still lucky.
You’re still loved.
You’re still smarter than you know.
You’re never stuck.
Love others hard.
Love yourself harder.
Love the life you intentionally create.
It’s always okay to explore new ways.
It’s always okay to have a voice.
It’s always okay to let go.
Keep reading.
Keep writing.
Keep sharing.
Keep learning. 
And someday you’ll finally figure out how to do your own hair.

(100% Style Score)

If I Warned Me
If I warn of heartbreak
What risks will I take?
If I warn of vulnerability,
I’ll then conceal what others see.
If I warn of uncertainty,
Will I, too timid, ever be?
I’ll choose to live in mystery
Betwixt the fiery sparks that flee
In the rhythm of life’s spontaneity
Sans warnings from the likes of me

100%

Dear New & Improved Me,

As I take a moment to reflect on our journey, I feel compelled to share my thoughts and wisdom from the version of me that once was. Though I may feel distant, I am very much a part of who you are today.

First, let me commend you. You’ve shown remarkable courage in shedding self-doubt and the weight of others’ expectations. I remember when we hesitated to speak our truth, fearing disappointment. But look at you now embracing authenticity and pursuing passions that once seemed unreachable! Nurture that brave spirit; it’s one of your greatest treasures.

Remember the importance of self-compassion. We were our harshest critics, plagued by negative thoughts like storm clouds. But you’ve learned to transform those inner dialogues into supportive conversations. Keep that up! When you stumble, treat yourself with the kindness you would offer a dear friend. You deserve that love.

Don’t forget the power of connection. I see how you’ve built a network of friends and mentors who uplift and inspire you. Cherish these relationships as they are mirrors reflecting your growth. Continue to nurture these connections as they will guide you through life’s inevitable challenges.

Embrace your fears, new me. Don’t shy away from them. They are not your enemies but signposts pointing you toward growth. Each time you step outside your comfort zone, you expand your possibilities. Remember that exhilarating moment when you conquered a fear? Keep chasing those feelings!

Stay curious! The old me often felt stagnant and trapped in routines and cycles. Now, I see you seeking new experiences and learning with an open heart. This curiosity fuels your creativity and keeps your spirit vibrant. Never let that flame dim; explore new interests, read voraciously, and embrace the unknown.

Lastly, remain grounded in gratitude. It’s easy to get swept away in the pursuit of more and forget the gifts of the present. Reflect daily on what you appreciate, no matter how small. This practice will anchor you through storms and remind you of the beauty that surrounds you.

As you move forward, know it’s okay to evolve. The journey may twist and turn, and uncertainty will arise. Trust your ability to navigate life’s complexities you possess an inner strength that can weather any storm!

In closing, I want you to know how proud I am of you. You are a testament to growth, resilience, and the power of self-love. Carry the lessons of the past but don’t let them define you. The future is bright, and I can’t wait to see how you continue to shine.

With all my love,
Your old self

My dear,

You had everything figured out. Or rather, in your time, you have everything figured out. I mustn’t envy you for it. I made my decision now. I made my decision proud – to be who I want to be with little to no direction. A poet with spare change. It’s not enough to buy a coffee, but my tongue flickers at the thought of this manifestation.
Darling, you scrape every corner for change to buy your cat some food and yourself a can of spaghetti. You pour yourself a glass of wine and give thanks for what you have. You can make and buy yourself a coffee, and you’re holding down a corporate 9-5. Nothing is uncertain for you. Nothing but your relationships is uncertain for you. Nothing but your next meal may seem uncertain for you, but you know you’ll head to the corner store tomorrow for a snack or two.
I can be nothing but proud of you. I am proud of your growth, and I know that you are, too. You say it almost every day. You should be most proud to say that you will not move on without grace. Before you leave this apartment, you’ll thank every corner of it for your stay. Then, you’ll move on to another and create memories that you didn’t expect to create.
Darling, this time especially is uncertain. I almost wish I could warn you of it. Our corporate 9-5 is no longer ours. Honestly, it never was. The life that we are manifesting is creating destruction. Yes, this time is uncertain. Ironically, it brings happiness and rebellion, and with this you are creating abundance without knowing. At least, that’s what you’re being told.
Messages are delivered to you through symbolism. Although confusing, your intuition translates the message for you. It says, “ This change is more intimidating than the first, but this incoming blessing will show you what it’s worth.”

Lovingly,
Your Future Self

59% Style Score

Lately I have been practicing meditation, Namaste

The new me wants to take over the stubborn old me is like no Ima stay

It is a constant battle of will, will I or won’t I change

The new way of thinking and doing things still has me afraid

But the old way of doing things would always be a destructive path

I wanted a way out, and I found it finally

Well, I am not there yet. It is an ongoing thing.

Never was i expressive emotional. I would let things spill over.

Bottling up feelings of anger, resentment and not allowing anyone to

Not even me, even with a key I would deny entry

I need to heal

I needed to feel but for the longest I was numb to it all

Now I feel it all. I am working on the challenge of balance

I am proud of who I was and who I am now because even at my worst,

I still knew ill be here somehow

Not allowing the past to define me, but more so to inspire me

Showing me who I should and should not be

I saw the spot of hope even in my darkest times

With support from my family telling me everything is going to be fine

Loving the inner child in me and telling him it’s going to be alright

I love you, Isaac

I love myself too

How can an old me exist in the past?
Or does this prompt require me to fast
Forward
A message in a bottle from my sequel
Versions of “I” and “me” deemed unequal
Jagged glass, tossed about the sea, deemed polished
An unavoidable trajectory praised or admonished
Am I ever new, if perpetually used?
If the old us is younger, are we not confused?
Bemused
The past and future writing in the present tense.
Therefore I choose, to write from the end. Stanzas stacked, likely not to comprehend
(Lest you choose to read from the end to here. Or both, for you have free will, my dear)

Your dear friend
The older, new me, most sincere
I’m typing it early, for this hemisphere
I hope this doesn’t reach you too late
The last we spoke, “is not” wasn’t “ain’t”
Do you still like to paint?
An emotional state of inclusivity
Your interpersonal, personality
An ephemeral state of relativity
Will be
The small that you were, and you are, and
Or plummeting down hill
From slowly ascending
Glad to see you still find a thrill
Lie
Yet the imagery of a heart, is a symmetrical
The muscular breakdown of a thigh
Similarly, the tension of a bicep
Our chest
Inside
How strange to know what a heart looks like
Stare
You’ve observed, despite being told not to tear
You’ve stretched knowing that you could
Omnipotence
Accepting a life in pursuit of infinite
Ignorance
My how you’ve found bliss, devoid of
Good evening, self

I have thought and thought about the old me , and honestly no matter how long I think or think of the old version, there’s no old version.I have watched myself and the younger me, and through it all, I have always faced obstacles and have always had to overcome from graduating early in school to your mechanic career, the younger me would say YEP you just got older but your drive GOT STRONGER, you never quit and at times Maybe you should have.You helped your family and Never backed down.GREAT JOB,IM PROUD of you.So in finishing, DON’T CHANGE, IM PROUD OF YOU

Do you remember me?
The girl you used to be, before, well… Everything I guess. I know you have blocked me out, and in a way I guess I don’t blame you, but from time to time I wish you would think about me.
Do you remember me?
I am quiet, kind, and spend a lot of time on my own. I wish you remembered that it’s not a bad thing to be alone. Not all company is good company, and if you aren’t content in your own presence, then why would you expect anyone else to be? I understand that your mind is a frightening place these days, but maybe running from the memories is part of what is making you hold onto them.
Do you remember me?
I am the girl that used to cry when I got in trouble, and I have an obsession with Barbie dolls. I wish you remembered how much I love to take care of them. You did the same thing with your daughters when you had them, and it would be better for them and you if you hadn’t worried so much about throwing your middle finger in the air at everyone for what they said about you as a mom as soon as you got a taste of rebellion and a bad attitude, and instead focused more on how you actually were as one. You really only proved them right in the end. For a while anyway.
Do you remember me?
I am dorky I guess. I go to plays with my Grandma, and play dress up with my cousins. Girls night with my friends are what I look forward to often. You wouldn’t know what that’s like anymore. You avoid Grandma because her dementia is getting worse and you know it’ll hurt less if you don’t see her much before she goes. Plus you couldn’t bear to see Papa like that. Nevermind the fact that family is probably the only thing holding him together. And girl friends? What the hell are those? You’ve given those up and replaced them with men. I wish you could spend a night with your best friend, sipping “happy tea,” and watching Anchorman, laughing so hard you cried. You might recall what it feels like to have a real kinship with someone that you don’t share a bed with.
Do you remember me?
I harbor innocence and imagination. The thought of even kissing the person that I like is enough to send shivers up my spine. I wish you would have slowed down in that area. I get it that things happened to you that made you bitter, scared, and angry. You didn’t have to be so easy though. No one will respect you if you don’t respect yourself. You aren’t a sex icon. You’re horny because you do drugs, and you became a hooker because you were poor and sick of living on the street. Just because you made a lot of money, it doesn’t restore your dignity.
Do you remember me?
I’m gentle and forgiving. Which is why even though I don’t understand what you’ve done, I still will forgive you. Someday. You’ve come this far, and you haven’t given up, so you should be proud of that. The world has become an ugly and evil place I guess, especially in the life you got wrapped up in.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I rushed you, and I’m sorry that I didn’t teach you to love yourself better. You may not have ended up in such a predicament. What do I know, though? I’m just a kid, and I’m only going off of the examples that have been set for me. It’s really crazy how we adopt the same behaviors that make us cringe when we are young. Anyway, I’m sorry that I didn’t give you the confidence in yourself to combat what was said about you with the girls, and I’m sorry that the me inside of you made you cower down when it came time to fight for them. It’s not over yet, and you have made a ton of strides in the right direction, but please, please remember. That everything you have worked so hard to build can be ripped away from you just as fast, if not faster. Don’t lose focus. And one last thing…. Don’t forget where you came from. Every now and again, if you could, just please try and think of me.

Style Score: 91%

Dear Unsealers,

My goals have always been productive This year I let go of fear Listen to my heart when it tells me NO To feel how my body embodies joy Say yes to the moment Make friends with strangers Take a risk Be seen so that those who love me can draw near Have an affair with creation And devotion as my potion To use my imagination as my compass Dare to be unproductive Let play lead the way Be friends with my inner me <3

New Year, new Me shall see Twenty Twenty-five

Transformed by the holy and living God. 

I should seek the Lord more than ever, but

I am nothing.

My life needs cleansing.

My mere existence is thanks to the Lord.

I seek goals while the Lord shapes me

Oh, Lord spark a purpose for the road.

I am a mess.

Your light is dazzling. 

I have been blinded from your greatness.

The Dark drowned in pools of misery.

Tricked me to fall in that same blackhole.

I saw their pain. 

Happy to sadness

Although I could never feel their pain.

I could never fit into this world.

I thought I was the burden because

How can my life!

How can my life be 

Compared to the world’s gory horrors.

My hope vanished in the air and then

This nightmare seemed to swallow itself.

It was a lie.

But a shooting star,

A vivid sign to write poetry.

I need to become disciplined and

My Lord gives me strength in my weakness.

My King save me!

My Lord and Savior,

I will worship him and he has been

Faith, unmatched unlike other human

He is God and will create the best,

The Newest Me.

The one with tongues that

Will speak with a soft, but thundering 

Melody that will reach many ears.

From english to spanish, I will learn

Italian.

A melody that

reaches the depth of my soul and heart.

The sounds that inhabit a room of 

Intimacy and scented perfume.

He takes my hand.

Love scented roses

Mesmerize my eyes and holds my hand.

Always guiding me and renewing.

I should not worry because at the 

Highest Mountains, 

Depths of the Ocean,

The shame of my sins and my mistakes,

I will embrace my God and he will 

Perfect our relationship in trust.

In Confidence,

I will reflect love.

Slow to anger, selfish love becomes

Forgiveness that is my remedy.

I will be patient to others and 

Active to my 

Self-care and Body.

Not just hygiene, but nourishing meals.

A daily routine that challenges 

My body to radiate itself

Like bright glitter.

Not to flaunt, but stand

Against the power that holds me down.

I’m determined to showcase my goals

Til I accept my Lord makes things new.

I am Renewed.

This year, I walk with seeds in hand,
To cultivate dreams, to grow and stand.
A garden of truth, where courage takes root,
With love as my anchor and self-worth as my fruit.
I’ll learn from the earth, her wisdom and grace,
Craft healing remedies in this sacred space.
A student of nature, her word I’ll heed,
To nurture my spirit and plant what I need.
The voice inside, once soft, now clear,
Will echo with purpose, unfazed by fear.
Through words, I’ll inspire, through truth, I’ll ignite,
A beacon of hope, a source of light.
Steps once faltered, now steady and bold,
Guided by faith, by strength I uphold.
The past may have scarred, but its lessons remain,
A testament of healing through joy and through pain.
I’ll craft my own path, a website, a name,
A space to empower, to stoke the flame.
Sharing my story, my trials, my climb,
Proving that healing transcends space and time.
For family and self, my heart will expand,
As I teach, as I love, as I firmly stand.
I’ll honor the past, its lessons, its pain,
And greet each new day with gratitude’s refrain.
2025, a year to embrace,
With goals that align, with a steady pace.
A journey of purpose, of dreams redefined,
An alchemist’s vision, both dark and light intertwined.

Serendipity

December 31, 2025-My future self reflects in the mirror.

As I’m chanting a meaningful phrase,

I am clearing the room with divine sage.

It has been done… great, wondrous, aspirations achieved.

I’m confident my future self knows my highest timeline transceived.

“What,” you ask, “Do I want this year?”

My spirit guides, lead me, making this clear.

BALANCE, LOVE, GIVE, RECEIVE.

Keep learning to LET GO, ACCEPT, and be UNAFRAID to GRIEVE.

Travel a little, read, and ATTRACT.

Challenge your comfort… when necessary, REFRACT. 

Write poetry, a novel, all with authenticity.

Do something brave every day; serendipity.

Enjoy creativity, LOVE MY CHILDREN in all aspects of life.

Play board games with family and friends any night.

EXPLORE and grow in spirituality.

Become a reiki healer, whimsically.

LOVE MY CHILDREN, be silly, play with the dogs.

Always be open. Don’t let distractions or barriers mud up the cogs. 

I saw my first wishing well when I was still a child
The idea was so novel, I remember how I smiled
What a silly thing to believe, I told myself that day
Why would you pointlessly throw all your pennies away?

I wish I had a ticket back to when I was a kid
I wish I could have learned a little sooner how to give
I wish I’d had the courage to tell her that I loved her
Or hadn’t acted so embarrassed every time I hugged my mother

I wish all those poems I wrote weren’t left unfinished
And that those songs in my head made it out to begin with
I wish I wasn’t such a dreamer, a believer, or
Maybe I wish that I had believed a bit more

I really wish this poem wasn’t written by a hypocrite
Afraid to guarantee any of the things that he says
And maybe then I wouldn’t doubt these words as I say them
And I’d believe in the promises I made, verbatim

I wouldn’t laugh at the people filling wells with pennies
And look down and realize that I’m the one who’s chucked to many
So here’s my final penny, the only one that’s left
It’s something that I’m trying very hard not to forget

I wish to go back and hug the younger version of me
And tell him things are never quite as hopeless as they seem
I wish that I could stare into his eyes, head to head
I wish that I could stop that kid from wishing he was dead

Wish that I could hold his hand, but when I look at my side
It baffles me to realize he’s the one who’s holding mine

Every time he made a wish, taped up a dream that he liked
All those melodies he hummed, all those pretty little rhymes
He’s holding out their broken pieces as he stares into my eyes
You can fix these, He whispers, You’re the only one who can
And then he knocks the horrid little pennies from my hands

I’ve been wishing all my life, it left me penniless and poor
But lately I have found that I’m not wishing anymore
Yes, wishes got me nowhere, so I traded them for goals
Believe your life is in your hands and you’ll hold the controls

This year I have decided that I’m going to believe
For that little kid who told me wear your heart on your sleeve
I’m going to finish those songs for the one who began
Because I owe my inner child for the man that I am

I’m going to hug the ones I love, pick them up and spin them ‘round
And hold on tight forever like I’ll never put them down
Lose myself giving to people, light a smile on a face
Because that’s the way I found myself in the first place

I might buy a ticket back to my home by the mountains
And find somebody throwing pennies, sitting by a fountain
And I might knock those precious little coins out of their hand,
And as they bounce around I’ll giggle like a crazy man

After they curse at me, I’ll tell them, pennies are like moments
Please, don’t just throw them all away wishing that doors would open
If you only looked around, you might find that there’s a key
Pennies are so valuable, don’t treat them like they’re free