You’re unique.
And DON’T laugh at me in disbelief.
Every single one of you holds a quality that another doesn’t
You’re talented,
And don’t let society push you down and beat you up for it,
Don’t let yourself be moulded into something they want you to be,
You’re worthy,
And don’t give someone the power to tell you you’re not.
You’re powerful,
Within you is passion just waiting to burst out like a vibrant firework taking to the sky.
Don’t let yourself be twisted like a pretzel into someone that isn't you.
And even when you feel alone in the crowd,
Sitting on the floor,
Wishing you could be something more than you are,
When you feel like you’re just a speck of dust in the air, waiting to drift down alongside other specks of dust.
Just remember,
You’re a star, a constellation and the universes needed nucleus.
Because in school, you’re shoved into moulds like liquid water into ice cube trays,
And taught in the same way, at the same time, to become the same time of person.
Even Art lessons, drama lesson and music lessons are tightly controlled.
You feel like all the time an elastic band has been snapped round you, you feel restricted, you feel you're not good enough.
That’s a notion engrained into our skulls from the day we enter school, that good enough means A+s, that good enough means making the sports team, that good enough means anything but the thing you are now.
But you can’t see yourself any other way.
Because the moment passion flows out of you, it’s abruptly stopped, like a cork on a tipped over drinks bottle.
Your head is filled with coloured pictures, words, dances. Intricate maths equations, literary works of genius.
And you have to keep it all to yourself.
Because it’s not cool to be creative. It’s not cool to be smart.
You can't see a future beyond the torturous prison you’ve been subjected to since Day 1, you can't see you're own beauty, you’re own talent.
And no matter how many times someone tells you, it doesn’t get through that solid wall of doubt that has slowly encased your entire body from years of relentless teasing.
But a glimmer of hope comes from those who dare to be different. You see that guy in the corridor, walking down, his hair dyed pink at the end.
You see that person, experimenting with pronouns they feel comfortable with.
You see that teacher. That one teacher who sees potential in you.
You see people expressing themselves. You see the freedom they feel. And you feel less alone.
And after that long, tiring journey, something snaps. The concrete of doubt that years of bullying has built around you is knocked down, like a bulldozer smashing an old building.
You put pen to paper. Dance shoe to floor, fingers to keys, And everything you’ve ever internalised flows like Niagara Falls.
It feels.
Liberating.
So please, believe me when I say.
You’re unique. and even if you can't see it now. You will soon.
You are 1 in 7.5 billion. And you were made for more than they tell you.
And DON’T laugh at me in disbelief.
Every single one of you holds a quality that another doesn’t
You’re talented,
And don’t let society push you down and beat you up for it,
Don’t let yourself be moulded into something they want you to be,
You’re worthy,
And don’t give someone the power to tell you you’re not.
You’re powerful,
Within you is passion just waiting to burst out like a vibrant firework taking to the sky.
Don’t let yourself be twisted like a pretzel into someone that isn't you.
And even when you feel alone in the crowd,
Sitting on the floor,
Wishing you could be something more than you are,
When you feel like you’re just a speck of dust in the air, waiting to drift down alongside other specks of dust.
Just remember,
You’re a star, a constellation and the universes needed nucleus.
Because in school, you’re shoved into moulds like liquid water into ice cube trays,
And taught in the same way, at the same time, to become the same time of person.
Even Art lessons, drama lesson and music lessons are tightly controlled.
You feel like all the time an elastic band has been snapped round you, you feel restricted, you feel you're not good enough.
That’s a notion engrained into our skulls from the day we enter school, that good enough means A+s, that good enough means making the sports team, that good enough means anything but the thing you are now.
But you can’t see yourself any other way.
Because the moment passion flows out of you, it’s abruptly stopped, like a cork on a tipped over drinks bottle.
Your head is filled with coloured pictures, words, dances. Intricate maths equations, literary works of genius.
And you have to keep it all to yourself.
Because it’s not cool to be creative. It’s not cool to be smart.
You can't see a future beyond the torturous prison you’ve been subjected to since Day 1, you can't see you're own beauty, you’re own talent.
And no matter how many times someone tells you, it doesn’t get through that solid wall of doubt that has slowly encased your entire body from years of relentless teasing.
But a glimmer of hope comes from those who dare to be different. You see that guy in the corridor, walking down, his hair dyed pink at the end.
You see that person, experimenting with pronouns they feel comfortable with.
You see that teacher. That one teacher who sees potential in you.
You see people expressing themselves. You see the freedom they feel. And you feel less alone.
And after that long, tiring journey, something snaps. The concrete of doubt that years of bullying has built around you is knocked down, like a bulldozer smashing an old building.
You put pen to paper. Dance shoe to floor, fingers to keys, And everything you’ve ever internalised flows like Niagara Falls.
It feels.
Liberating.
So please, believe me when I say.
You’re unique. and even if you can't see it now. You will soon.
You are 1 in 7.5 billion. And you were made for more than they tell you.