As a child it was incredibly difficult to comprehend the concept of fair. With toys, unused by you, scattered across the room, it was easy to assume that your work was finished. You had carefully placed each item of choice upon its correct shelf, leaving other children’s fantasy play for them to put away. Everything was simple; it never occured to your little mind that you would have to pick up that little boy’s building blocks or toy trucks. So why should you replace his trucks? You refuse. The Sunday school teacher is not amused. Hot tears trail down your rosy cheeks because you still don’t understand the concept of fair.

No one had explained to you yet that life wasn’t fair. No one had briefed you with the overwhelming truth that you would have to sift through and come to accept so much “unfair.” So much would burst into your life that you didn’t choose or even deserve. You would be forced to “deal” with the unfair, trade your desire for love and safety with the world’s broken, perverted version of “fair.” If you could only convince yourself that this was the way things should be, you would never again be surprised by “unfair.”

No one ever taught you the sometimes “unfair” is just not okay. No one ever taught you that sometimes “unfair” is abuse and neglect; sometimes “unfair” is untruthful and unkind. No one ever taught you that you’re worth more than even “fair.” You’re worth the moon itself and the whole sky bursting with solar systems and planet’s rings. No one ever taught you that you deserve truth, beauty, and goodness. You deserve love and safety. You deserve learning and growing, laughing and crying. I wish you could know just how poorly fair describes what you deserve, what you need, and what you’re worth.