Don't forget to fall in love with your dreams.

Hell, don't forget to have dreams in the first place.

I think it's scary to have dreams, or to speak them out loud. Saying your wishes and desires out loud means that someone in the world can hear it and hold you accountable in the future -- and what if you fail? Can you still love a dream that seems far out of reach?

"Dreams never die," someone once told me. "It's people who give up on them."

What would it look like if we woke up each morning in love with the possibilities ahead of us?

If I were honest with myself, there are dreams I still have -- dreams for myself and my future, but also dreams for others, for the world -- that I don't necessarily have full faith and confidence in them becoming realities. But that doesn't mean they're worth working toward in some capacity, even in the smallest of ways.

From "Sleepless in Seattle"

Don't forget to fall in love with your life. (Don't forget to stop comparing your life to other people's lives first.)

When I first moved to New York, I used to stay out until the lights of the Empire State Building turned off. I'd sit in empty fountains with friends, go from one bar to the next until we ended up in dim diners or living rooms with not enough furniture.

For 2012, it was what I needed; for 2015, it was the last thing I could imagine myself wanting.

And that's OK. It's OK to not be the kind of person who stays out until 2, 3, 4 a.m. in the morning, and it doesn't mean I'm unsatisfied with my life in any way. Truthfully, I used to think the opposite, especially in those moments when I'd call it a night before the rest of the group did.

You know those picture books and Sesame Street episodes that remind you not to succumb to peer pressure, and to just be yourself and enjoy being yourself? Funny how quickly we can forget those lessons.


To that end: don't forget to fall in love with yourself.

You -- fearfully and wonderfully made. You -- flawed and struggling and broken, but hopeful.

It's so, so easy to think you need to fall in love with somebody else first before you can see yourself as whole. We want other people to complete us. At least, that's what the movies tell us we should want.

But as someone who's tried (and failed) to give love before I could admit I felt anything resembling love for my own existence...it isn't enough. It isn't enough to go to bed in love with somebody, but wake up without a full heart for yourself. It isn't enough to just define love based on a relationship with another person -- nothing more. It isn't enough to hope another person can love you enough to give you worth.

Give yourself permission now to love yourself. It won't be instantaneous, but it will be worth it.