Dear World, please don't brutally crush my children.
It's me, Tara. I haven't addressed you in a while. Well, not personally. I've been in a kind of "not anthropomorphosizing the Universe" phase over the last couple of years.
I was just wondering if you would mind if I asked you to kind of look out for my kids. I am thinking in particular, of this one. He reminds me a great deal of myself.
I don't think I can stand to watch a tiny version of myself be brutally crushed under the thumb of popular culture.
So, if it's all the same to you, can you let this one happily make faerie houses, paint his face to match his imagination, and read Judy Moody, Girl Detective, without some asshole calling him a faggot, or telling him faeries aren't real, or calling him weird?