I’ve seen you grow from that little girl whose biggest problem is just how to match her clothes. Yet now, you’re showing me a picture of a woman who is busy writing resumes and sending them to big and scary companies.
Time is crazily wild and before it even gets ahead of me, here’s a promise I want you to make.
Promise me you’ll fail.
Now, this is a promise I’ve never asked you before. This is not your element but promise to me that you will fail. Promise me that. Promise me you’ll stumble. You’ll make mistakes — big and small ones.
Promise me you’ll stand in front of those high buildings. And yes, you may go back and forth, rethinking your guts to show up to that interview. Yet, promise me that fear will never withdraw you from experiencing the tense of walking through that office, waiting for your name…
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