To Whom It May Concern.

Dear Odd Neighbor, Boring Office Job Insurance Guy, Relatives, Friends of Friends, Parents of Friends, Etc,

When I was young, I wanted to be a lion. I was told I could not be a lion, that it simply wasn't possible that a little girl could grow up to be a lion. I was confused. I had never considered that I couldn't be something. Teachers always told me "you can be anything you want to be".

I wanted to be a goddamn lion.

In my head, I felt like a fricken lion. During gym class for "capture the flag", when a member of the opposing team would get close enough to me, I would fall on all fours and growl a ferocious growl. They would run away terrified, and I felt like I was on top of the world.

But when I was home, it wasn't okay to be a lion. I was admonished, and above all, I was told I COULD NOT BE A LION.

I gave up, and I never dropped on all fours and growled a ferocious growl again.

When I was eighteen, I wanted to write. I was told I could not be a writer, that it simply wasn't possible that a girl like me could make any money with a degree as a writer. I was confused. I knew I had a talent, and I knew that I was passionate about what I was doing.

I wanted to be a goddamn writer.

In my heart, I felt like a fricken writer. Every spare moment that I had, all during high school, I would scribble fantastic stories in my journal. I would create fantastic heroines of dramatic fiction, women who could hold their own and conquer any situation presented to them with elegance and wit. I felt like a winner.

But when I was home, it wasn't okay to be a writer. My efforts were ignored, and above all, I was told THERE IS NO MONEY IN BEING A WRITER, BE A NURSE INSTEAD--THERE IS ALWAYS A NEED FOR NURSES.

This letter is addressed to every single person who told me I "could not" be.

Here is a great big FUCK. YOU.

I wasted six years of grade school, four years of high school, and two years of my college life wondering why I was so confused, why I wasn't truly happy, why I was trapped into thinking I was never going to be anything that made me feel special.

I am glad that I eventually made up my mind to not listen to any of you. I am so, so glad that at the age of twenty I finally decided to embrace exactly who I am. I am glad that I am a fricken weirdo who growls ferociously.

People who spend their lives passionless are not living. People who are a slave to the idea that money is THE SOLE THING one needs to live are completely out of their goddamn minds. There will be money in what I do--not a lot of it, but it will be there.

I know I'll be okay, because I know what I have to do to achieve what I want to achieve. I know that my dreams are mine, and not yours. There is something so precious about identity, something so miraculous about realizing that everything you were conditioned to think is utter bullshit.

While you pray that I come to my senses and return to a mundane sanity, I'll get naked and press my tits up against your window singing Freedbird.

Isn't that what all drunk blondes from the South are supposed to sing, anyway?

Sincerely Yours,

One Fierce Lioness