Let me never be complete.

Let me never be compliant.

Let me never be content.

 

Let me never be a person, whole and finished, who is happy to be whole and finished.  Let my jagged edges scrape, and my unfinished margins have scribbles in all kinds of tools.  Let my footnotes have footnotes, and let my footnotes’ footnotes go out and drink in bars and bring back in-line citations that have no manners and wreck all the previous pagination and fuck the formatting until it cries and goes running for a new editor.

Let me never say “Enough!” because I am afraid I cannot take more.  Let me never run from my boundaries before I run face-first into them.  Let me never be satisfied with my limits.  Let my fears be challenges, adversaries to face with a hipshot grin and a sharp word, a sharp point, a sharp edge.  Let me never be held down, held back, held up or held over by anything I can drag into the light and eat, one bloody and satisfying bite at a time.

Let me never fall down, fall back, fall out or fall over when it is time to stand up.  Let me never put convenience before principle.  Let me never fail by refusing to commit.  Let me never excuse my own failure with “I tried.”  Let me never accept the failures of others quietly, when they limit me.  Let me never be tired enough to stop fighting.  Let me never give up being myself, fiercely and fabulously.  Let me never sell myself short.  Let me never keep myself from being.  Let me never slide into mediocrity.

Let me never be complete.

Let me never be compliant.

Let me never be content.

Let me never forget that I will fail at all of these things, time and time again, and that is no excuse to stop.

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