Dear Olivia,
There’s a song that feels like ours, you know it well, All I Know So Far by Pink. When we sing it in the car, windows down, voices echoing against the mountains, I feel like the world is pausing for us.
The first time I heard it, I cried for days. It wasn’t just a song, it was my life, my mistakes, my hopes for you, wrapped in music. And now it’s our song. I want you to know why it means so much to me.
“You throw your head back / And you spit in the wind / Let the walls crack / ’Cause it lets the light in.”
This is the heartbeat of the song for me. The world will try to make you smaller. People will want you to quiet down, to be easier to manage, to color inside the lines.
Even I, as your dad, sometimes ask you to be quieter, or “a little more filtered.” But in my heart, I love that you are unfiltered and loud. I love that you run into storms and play in the rain.
I spent too much of my life behind walls. Walls built from rules, fear, and trying to be perfect. But walls don’t keep the world out; they keep the light out. Every crack I tried to hide eventually broke open, and that light changed me.
I want you to remember that your wildness, your laughter, your joy, they are the light. Never trade them for safety.
“I wish someone would’ve told me that this life is ours to choose…”
I grew up thinking life was a script, already written for me. Church rules, community expectations, family approval. I followed them all, thinking that would protect me.
I thought if I played my role perfectly, I would finally be enough. It took me decades to understand: the script was never mine.
You already live this line. You make your choices with kindness, curiosity, and courage. You’re not afraid to forgive those who’ve hurt you, and that is your freedom.
Keep choosing your life, not the life someone else writes for you.
“I wish someone would’ve told me that this darkness comes and goes / People will pretend but, my God, nobody knows…”
This line is pure truth. Life will have dark seasons. You’ve already faced some of them—when friends betrayed you, when the world felt heavy and unfair.
And here’s the part that hits me hardest: people will pretend, but nobody knows. I’ve lived that. People can look like they have it all together, smiling at work, posting happy photos, saying all the right things. But inside, they might be breaking. They might be lonely. They might be wishing someone would ask how they really are.
I spent years pretending I was fine, even as my world crumbled inside. Pretending doesn’t heal anyone. I hope you always remember this: honesty, even when it’s messy, is where healing begins. And when you see someone else pretending, let it remind you that kindness matters more than you’ll ever know.
“Stay unfiltered and loud / You’ll be proud of that skin full of scars.”
This is the line that feels like it was written for you. I love your spark, your quick humor, your storytelling, your laugh that fills the house.
Yes, I have to ask you sometimes to turn the volume down or be a little filtered. That’s just me being a dad. But I hope you never dim that light inside you.
Scars will come. Life leaves marks. But your scars will tell a story of courage and kindness, not fear.
I spent years hiding my scars. It took me a long time to understand that they are not something to be ashamed of—they’re proof that I survived, that I kept loving, that I kept going.
“I can show you how to live like your life is on the line.”
If I could leave you with one truth, this is it: live fully. The messy, beautiful, ordinary, extraordinary life that is yours.
Run into the storms. Play in the rain. Sing until your voice cracks. Laugh until you can’t breathe. Take risks. Love big. Live like your life is on the line, because every moment is a chance to feel it all.
As long as I am here, I will be cheering you on. Through every storm, every crack, every laugh, and every song we sing together with the windows down.
Love always,
Dad
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