Story by Brittany Bacinski
Dear teenage sister,
I tried commenting on this picture you posted, but noticed you deleted it 2 minutes later.
Maybe because it didn’t have enough likes, I hear that’s a thing these days, but can I tell you something? I liked it. Actually, I loved it.
I see you here, and it makes me smile. Because you’re happy. Well, at least you look happy. It’s not a Snapchat “selfie” with cat ears or sparkly filtered perfection.
It’s you. The real you. The one who doesn’t need a filter at all. I see your spunk, your silliness, your great sense of humor.
The outfit you chose and wore sorely because you liked it. And the coat you decided you didn’t need, because I know you don’t think coats are cool.
When I see this photo, I hear your laugh, the sound of it not quite a woman’s, not quite a child’s. Just somewhere in between.
The one that makes me painfully miss that sweet little girl you were, squealing around the playground with what felt like yesterday.
I write this with a lump in my throat, tears in my eyes. Because I get this feeling you don’t know how amazing you are.
I feel sick at the thought that kids your age might not truly understand how loved you all are. Not just “liked” on Instagram, but insurmountably loved.
Here. In real life. Just as you are.
I promise, no app, no social media platform, amount of internet followers will ever scratch the surface of your worth to your family and your true friends.
You are worthy. You’re more than enough. And I’ll always be here for this reminder whenever you need it.
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