To CLOUD(y with a CHANCE of anything and everything because you will be the child of the girl made of storm),
I want you to love running.
Yes, you heard me, right.
Let me repeat myself: I want you to love running.
And, my dear, I don’t want you to just like it—you’re going to hate me one day for this, but I don’t care, because I am your mother. You have to love running.
And if you don’t, you’ll just have to learn how to love it.
Just like how you should learn and teach yourself to love anything and everything that excites and interests you, anything that catches your eye, everything that catches your fancy.
My darling, only know how to love one way, my way, and now yours.
Two words: Love. Hard.
Love hard, Cloud.
Go big or go home, right?
In school, at work, on stage, in life and especially in love—love like I do. Love like we do.
Love. Hard.
Love so hard you wear your heart, proud and unashamed, be as you as you can be, on your sleeve for the rest of the world to see always, anytime.
Love so hard it sets your heart on fire, makes you burn inside out, hurts you but still transforms you, makes you feel so alive always, anytime.
Love so hard it changes you, teaches you, challenges and pains you, knocks you off your feet and the air out of your lungs always, anytime.
Love so hard you laugh and you cry, confuses you, makes you smile so bright your cheeks hurt, makes you bawl so bad you feel your soul cleanse itself through every tear always, anytime.
Yes, my dearest, my last hope, my CHANCE, I want you to love.
Love hard always, anytime.
But only second to how much you should love yourself. Again, always, anytime.
Now back to running.
I want you to love running, Cloud.
I need you to love running.
I need you to run.
I need you to run as fast as you can.
I need you to run as fast as your legs can carry you.
I need you to run as fast, as if you were running your very last, making you run even faster than you know you could, surprising yourself.
Surprise yourself.
I want you to use your two legs to jump and run, and feel the stretch of your muscles with every stride, allowing you to swing your legs, allowing you to leap and leap and leap, and go even further.
Further away from me if you want to.
Just keep running.
I want you to run and run and run.
I want you to love feeling out of breath, holding your breath, preserving the air inside your lungs, the only way running so hard can teach you.
And I want you to run so hard that you always end up feeling that way—out of breath. So that you live your life looking at the world, allowing anything and everything to steal your breath away at how wonderful it really, truly still is.
Run my dearest, darling, you.
So that when you run and reach the point when you think you’re already out of air to breath, promise me you’ll gather whatever strength you didn’t know was still in you—and then.
Keep running.
Full speed ahead towards the direction of what makes you happy.
Keep running.
Full speed ahead towards the direction of uncertainty and what scares you, and what makes you uncomfortable.
Keep running.
Full speed ahead towards a destiny of your choosing and work twice as hard for.
Keep running.
Full speed ahead towards a life you are allowed to shape into any form, making your own choices and decisions, and owning them.
Keep running.
Full speed ahead towards the best version of you, and continue reinventing yourself over and over again, so you never stop learning.
Keep running.
Keep running.
Keep running.
Keep running and save yourself.
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