This Girl I Know

I know a girl.
She’s like a child. Cute, eyes full of wonder, naïve. The thing is she’s not a child. She’s a woman.
She hold in her so much talent, so much laughter and a spirit that soars. If only she would spread her wings.
She lives in fear. Too afraid to chase her dreams or skin her knees. To be uncomfortable or take a chance on herself.
She isn’t living. Everyone that knows her sees it. Her glimmer of greatness, and we want to shake her until she wakes up. Opens her eyes to herself.
She dresses in fear and finds shelter in him. He takes advantage of her. Letting her pay his bills, cook his meals, and offering empty terms of endearment as tender. She accepts it. Because when you don’t know your worth you take what you can get.
I know her and I worry about her. I pray for her. I have cried for her. I wonder if she cries…prays…worries for herself?
I wonder if she has any idea that she doesn’t have to accept life’s minimum. I wonder if she has any idea at all how special she is?
I know this girl. I know she’ll read this and assume I’m not talking about her and continue on as if my words never spoke to her, singing her song. Hiding behind the veil of anonymity because I’m too much of a friend to say her name.
I love you, friend.
Demand more. Shake life. Stop settling and live as though you’re priceless. Because you are.

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