Don’t tell me I worry too much about others. I remember what it feels like to think no one cares, and I know no one should have to feel that way.
Don’t tell me I spread myself too thin. I don’t know how many times someone older had told me they regret not doing enough when they were younger.
Don’t tell me I can’t help someone. I don’t know that I can’t until I try every thing that I know how to do, and maybe I’ll learn something new along the way too.
Don’t tell me I daydream too often. The greatest thing about life is the fact that you get to write your future the way you want to, and ANYTHING can happen between “now” and “then”.
Don’t tell me I’m a disgrace to my family. I might not make them proud; I might not be a world’s greatest female of anything, but I’m doing what I can and I’m doing my best.
Don’t tell me I cannot do something before I’ve even started. Everyone amazes, in the end, and everyone is more capable than anyone may think.
Don’t define me by what happened in the past. It might be a long time from then, and I know I’m not the same person I used to be.
Don’t define me by my parents’ wealth or good fortune. You can give or take what you will from a child, but it really only depends on how the child was raised.
Don’t define me by what you see on the outside. Everyone knows, a mask hides and a cover conceals. Things aren’t always as they seem, even without magic.
Don’t define me by your standards of what you believe I should be. I don’t live by your rules and I don’t live to impress you.
Don’t define me by a mistake or a fluke. You can’t expect to get an entirety of a story with only a chunk of a chapter. That’s merely an assumption and not the truth.
Don’t tell me I need to stop caring so much. If you don’t care about others, if you don’t have that human connection, then what is your heart worth?