Glitter We Never Outgrow

In the velvet hush between heartbeats, where memories crystallize into eternity, we find ourselves suspended in time's tender embrace. Captured by Mitchell Royel—each frame a confession, each shadow a secret whispered only to those who dare to listen—as the haunting melody of "Girl of the Year" by Allie X cascades through the atmosphere, transforming ordinary moments into exquisite revelations of our collective yearning. The glitter of recognition falls softly around us now, illuminating what we've always known but seldom acknowledged: that in our beautiful imperfection lies our most perfect truth.

Remember those nights? The ones where we all moved in formation, clustering around the chosen ones, basking in the glow of their temporary reign. The gymnasium transformed by dollar store streamers and DJ lights. We called them dances, but they were really ceremonies of selection. The music pulsed through our bodies as we watched the chosen ones sway in the center of it all, their smiles reflecting back the adoration of the crowd. We stood on the periphery, some of us, wondering what magic they possessed that we somehow lacked.

We've been playing this game since forever. The popular table at lunch, where laughter seemed more genuine and the conversation more important. The birthday party invitations that arrived for some but not all, creating invisible boundaries between the worthy and the waiting. The weekend hangouts that somehow defined our worth for the coming week, as Monday morning conversations revolved around "you had to be there" moments that excluded as much as they united. All of us caught in the delicate dance of belonging and standing out, of being seen but not too seen, of mattering in the eyes of others.

Here's the truth, loves: we're still doing it. We've just upgraded the venue and changed the dress code.

The tiara just changes shape. Now it's the promotion that gets announced on social media with humble-brag precision. It's the post following that somehow validates our voice in a crowded digital room. It's the wedding hashtag that proves our love story is worth documenting. It's the house in the right neighborhood with the carefully curated interior that makes visitors whisper, "they've made it." The markers evolve, but the hunger remains the same – to be chosen, to be celebrated, to matter in the grand scheme of things.

But what if – and stay with us here – we acknowledged that we're all still those same kids, hearts thumping with want? What if we admitted that underneath our carefully curated exteriors, our professional accomplishments, our relationship status updates, we're still hoping someone picks us? That beneath the surface of our adult composure lies the same yearning for acceptance that kept us awake before those school dances?

There's a particular kind of heartache that comes with waiting to be chosen. We remember standing by our lockers, watching invitations exchange hands, the whispered plans for weekend gatherings where memories would be made without us. We remember the careful calculation of outfit choices, the strategic positioning in hallways to appear casual yet available for inclusion. The emotional mathematics of it all was exhausting – trying to solve for x, where x equals belonging.

Let's get radically honest with ourselves. The validation we seek externally has always been ours to give. The moment we realize this is the moment we stop waiting for permission to shine. The moment we understand that worthiness isn't earned through admission to exclusive circles but is our birthright – that's when everything shifts. That's when we stop holding our breath waiting for the invitation and start creating spaces worthy of our presence.

We don't need to be chosen. We were born worthy. The universe conspired in countless miraculous ways to bring us into existence – do we really think that was an accident? Do we really believe we're here to wait in the wings of someone else's story?

We spent years of our lives auditioning for roles in other people's narratives. The supportive friend. The agreeable colleague. The low-maintenance partner. Shape-shifting to fit the contours of others' expectations while our own desires gathered dust in the corner. The exhaustion of it all eventually brought us to our knees – literally, sobbing on our bathroom floors at 3 AM, mascara creating abstract art on our cheeks, wondering why being "enough" for others still left us feeling so empty.

The most revolutionary thing we can do is to step away from the voting booth of public opinion and place the tiara on our own heads – not with arrogance, but with the quiet dignity that comes from knowing our worth isn't up for debate. It's not about declaring ourselves superior; it's about refusing to participate in the hierarchy altogether. It's about recognizing that the very system of ranking human worthiness is fundamentally flawed.

Think about it: we're spiritual beings having a human experience, stardust and divine consciousness temporarily housed in these magnificent, flawed bodies – and we're worried about who gets invited to happy hour? We're anxious about our follower count when we contain multitudes? The cosmic joke of it all would be hilarious if it weren't breaking our hearts daily.

The party's still happening, loves. But now we get to decide what it means to be seen. We get to rewrite the rules of engagement. We get to determine what constitutes success, what merits celebration, what deserves our precious attention and energy.

We're not suggesting it's easy. The pull toward external validation is strong, reinforced by every advertisement, every algorithm, every cultural narrative that profits from our insecurity. Some days, we still find ourselves checking the metrics, seeking the approval, wondering if we're measuring up. Old habits of seeking outside confirmation die hard. But we catch ourselves faster now. We recognize the familiar hunger for what it is – not a truth about our value but a well-worn pathway in our brains that we're actively rewiring.

For those of us weary from the spotlight chase, consider this soul-work: Start a "praise file" where we capture the moments we felt most alive – not praised, but aligned. Those instances where time seemed to stand still because we were so completely present in our purpose. When the comparison demon visits, we ask ourselves whose metrics we're using to measure our lives. Are they truly aligned with our values, or are they borrowed standards that never quite fit? We create a daily five-minute ritual where we acknowledge one thing we've done that required no validation – an act of kindness no one witnessed, a boundary we honored privately, a moment of courage that didn't make it to our highlight reel.

We practice saying "Thank you, and..." instead of diminishing compliments – we own our light, darlings. When someone recognizes our brilliance, we resist the urge to deflect or diminish. We take a breath, let it land, and add to it rather than subtract from it. "Thank you, and we worked really hard on that." "Thank you, and we're proud of that accomplishment too." We write love letters to our teenage selves, telling them everything they need to hear about their inherent worthiness. We're specific about the qualities we now recognize were always there, beneath the awkwardness and uncertainty. This isn't self-improvement; it's self-remembering. We were magnificent long before anyone noticed.

The glitter that matters isn't found in the spotlight or reflected in others' approval. It's in the quiet moments of self-recognition, the brave acts of showing up authentically, the gentle acknowledgment of our own journey without comparison or competition. It's in the liberation that comes from releasing the need to be chosen and instead choosing ourselves, repeatedly, even when it's difficult, even when it's lonely, even when no one is watching.

Remember those school dances? The real magic wasn't happening under the disco ball at the center of the room. It was in the courage of the wallflower who finally decided to dance anyway, regardless of who was watching. It was in the genuine connections forming in quiet corners, away from the performance of popularity. It was in the moment we realized we could create our own joy without waiting for permission.

The tiara was always ours. The glitter was always within us. And the dance? Well, that's always been about finding our own rhythm in a world determined to have us follow someone else's beat.

So we dance, loves. We place that tiara firmly on our own heads. And we let our inner glitter shine so brightly that it becomes impossible to ignore – not because we need the attention, but because authenticity is the most magnetic force in the universe. The world doesn't need more people seeking validation; it needs more of us living so authentically that we inspire others to do the same.

That's the revolution. That's the real party. And we've always had a VIP invitation.

-Ryder (of Gospel Glamour)