My mom has been going through each room of the house organizing and purging old shit. Last weekend was the random closet in the living room full of old school supplies and projects. Then she came upon these three notecards. I’m guessing I was in third grade when I dictated them to my mom because that’s when I learned how to write in cursive, and reading them was inspiring and hysterical. I always have known who I am, but this is tangible proof.
It is so cool to know that even at age 8 I didn’t give a shit about what anyone thought about me. These cards have re-inspired me to remain true to myself and I am so proud of 8-year old Gaby – who would wear zebra print tights with orange high-top Converse on the daily.