Hi Past Me!
In the past, you’ve written many letters to me. It’s about time I returned the favor. But rather than spoil the rest of your life for you, I figured I would answer 9 of your most asked questions in your letters.
1) How are you?
I’m pretty good. I know so much more about us now. I can’t say I’ve figured everything out yet, but I’m getting there. My big takeaway is: there is absolutely nothing wrong with us. Nothing. No matter how much it seems that way, no matter how many times you may think it, no matter how many people tell you that, there is nothing wrong. We are exactly who we are. There were and are struggles, I won’t ever deny that. But we have survived them and you will too
2) Where are you?
Well, I’m at Mount Holyoke College in South Hadley, Massachusetts… and you have no idea where that is. But that’s okay! You’ll figure it out soon. And for even younger me: yes, we made it out of the south.
3) Who are your friends?
I have found some truly incredible friends here. I won’t name them here, but trust me, we no longer feel so alone. And if I could give you one piece of advice: she’s not your friend. I know it’s harsh, but she was never your friend. Real friends don’t hurt you. They don’t make you feel worthless. They don’t manipulate you or use you. Real friends are nothing like her. I know it won’t change anything, but it had to be said.
4) Do you have a boyfriend?
No. Fun fact: I’m gay.
5) Do you have a girlfriend?
Also no. But I’m working on it.
6) What’s your favorite movie/show/book?
Listen, it’s gonna be a tough thing to learn, but your love for Harry Potter does not age well. Nowadays, DC comics takes the cake. Which in all honesty, will probably also not age well. But here we both are, living in ignorant bliss.
7) Favorite artist or band?
Again, hate to break it to you, but your favorite band right now also doesn’t age well. Now it’s small indie artists that fill my headphones.
8) Have we written a book yet?
… Well we wrote something book length. But it won’t be published (copyrights and all that). But please don’t be dissuaded, keep writing and keep dreaming.
9) Does… does it get better?
Yeah. Yeah, it does.
With love and hope,
Ev
(oh yeah, we go by Ev now, but I’ll let you figure out that one yourself)
P.S. Future me,
1) How are you?
2) Where are you?
3) Who are your friends?
4) Still gay, I hope
5) Please, please tell me you have a partner
6) What’s your favorite movie/show/book?
7) Favorite artist or band?
8) Have we written a publishable book?
9) I’m not worried about this one
I’m writing to you even though I hardly remember you. I’m writing to you like a long-lost daughter. Which you are, aren’t you? My child. You grew up like an overwatered plant, like a pig ripened for the slaughter, always for someone other than yourself. You grew up awkwardly, like a person trying to fit into a dollhouse, limbs dangling from open windows. I suppose I want to say that I’m sorry, because just as much as I raised you, I hated you. Could barely look at you some days, like the mirror was the rotting portrait of Dorian Gray. I’m so sorry. Because you were beautiful, jumping from rock to rock in the forest, laughing that crackling laugh that only truly belongs to a child, wearing sparkly skirts and ruby red Dorothy shoes. You were everything to me. You are everything to me, even though new pieces of you fall away with every passing hour. If fragments of you still exist inside me, you will be happy to know that we are content. That I still love the forest, and I still laugh plenty. That I grew so big that the dollhouse snapped, and now I get to build my own home. That you are not to be blamed for being an adult in a child’s body, and that sometimes I still see you in my eyes. That I love you enough for the both of us. And I miss you every day.
You are not to blame for things you did before you could even write your
own name
You do not have to carry the weight of another person, let them carry it
themselves; they can and should do it
I know you are trying to help but sometimes when we try to help, we can
do more harm than good
Letting them go will help not only them but you as well, I promise; you
will be free to be your own person
Do not feel bad for what you have already done, the past can not be fixed,
just focus on what can be improved on in the future.
You have taken on so much, you do not have to do that anymore, take that
weight off your shoulders
If this does not make any sense just know that I love you, you are so brave
and kind.
You and I are the same. I would not be me without you.
But God I wish this letter could reach you.
Maybe it would change nothing.
But I can’t not wonder about what life would be like if things were different, if
I had been different.
Don’t worry. We are ok now. We were always really ok but it could have been
better.
I love you little-self, you are not to blame for who you are
I am writing to you from college, where it is currently snowing and freezing. You’ve always wanted to be able to experience all four seasons and break free from your Miami shell. I may be spoiling things for you, but we got accepted into our dream school and have the opportunity to experience everything we could have imagined. However, I want you to enjoy your childhood and the warmer winter days. Enjoy the days when mom invites you to the beach even though the water is choppy and it is windy outside. Enjoy the days when Cisco wants to drag you to the park to watch him play lacrosse. Enjoy the pastelitos, carne con papa, and arroz con pollo because Dad won’t be making them forever. Cherish every moment with Abuelo. Cherish the sounds of your dogs, the noise of the city, and the sound of your favorite car pulling into the driveway. You won’t be able to glance back on the small details of your childhood home because we grew up and achieved our goals. So, cherish them while you still can and always remember to love yourself.
Your life is going to change a lot, but it all ends up okay. I just needed you to hear that.
Do you remember that girl you saw on the bus in front of you on that skiing trip? The one that you decided was your future self. Not to spoil anything, but you aren’t her. First, we do not look like her. I remember she had plum hair and mascara, but we’ve never even considered dying our hair, and we tend to poke ourselves in the eye too much when applying mascara to ever get it as perfect as she did.
Second, we aren’t like her, personality-wise I mean. We never talked to her, so we know nothing about her really, but we don’t need to know her life story to know that we are our own unique person just as she is hers. We do not have her life, so we aren’t her. Simple.
I guess we can make some basic assumptions about her. One, she was about to go skiing. We haven’t skied in seven years. Insane right? It’s because we ended up moving from Minnesota to California. The move changed the trajectory of your life, and you cry and scream when you find out about it but, again, I promise you it all works out. California changes us for the better. It teaches us how to think and opens our world from a small always frozen town to a globe of different cultures and people. California is hard at first but when we move again, all you think about is going back.
We can make another assumption about her. She was chatting with a girl with long blond hair the entire ride. They clearly had been friends for a while. You don’t have a friend with long blond hair. Don’t freak out, Fen cuts their hair. We are still friends. In fact, this friendship is the most enduring friendship we have. We make it a point to see each other at least once a year and still have never seriously fought. We’ve got other friends too, ones in California, ones in North Carolina (where we moved after California — it’s not your favorite but, again, it all works out), Ellie is still around, and our college friends are better than we could have ever hoped for.
There aren’t any other assumptions I can make based on what limited information I remember about her. Maybe you could make some, maybe you did back then. It did just happen to you; the memory is fresh in your brain. Regardless, we were wrong. But just because we were wrong doesn’t mean that life feels wrong now. Life feels good, you’ve got a lot to look forward to even if our hair isn’t plum and our mascara is never flawless.
That boy you like right now- stop crying over him. He is not worth your time. Besides, you don’t like boys very much anyway. If you are not crying over a boy right now, I apologize. I know you think of other things, too. You want to paint your nails and wear a full face of makeup to school. I am sorry you are stuck in your uniform. You will be liberated soon. In the meantime, you should convince Mom to take you to Justice every day because it will soon become ancient history and it is up to you to preserve real fashion.
I don’t know what to tell you. I feel like I need a 30-year-old me to tell me what to tell you. I know you want to grow up and be older. You want to wear short skirts like the older girls. You want a boyfriend to parade around. You want lighter skin and lighter hair and a house. You want vacations and attention and your baby hairs to be gone. You want to eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches instead of adobo and rice. No, you don’t. Eat your rice. You want popularity and mom is probably yelling at you. Don’t worry, one day you can yell back and she will laugh because she is your best friend.
But let me tell you a secret. When I look at you now, when I think of you, when I see photos of you, you are everything I want to be. You are always smiling and reading. You are always laughing with your friends. You are always taking selfies, apparently, according to my photo vault. You are designing and drawing and painting and writing. You are swimming in neon bikinis and braiding your hair into intricate patterns. In many ways, I feel like I’ve destroyed you. I apologize. I think I need your words, more than you need mine. Growing up is fun and cool, I guess, but honestly, it feels like wildfire. It creeps up on you instantly. It can’t be stopped and spreads to parts of your life that you cherish and thought were protected. You dream of being me, but I ache to be you. I don’t think I’ve brought you much joy through this letter. I apologize again. Perhaps one day you can come back to me, rebuild me, revive me, and teach me something that I never knew. You can lift my spirit. I know you are good at that.
Dear Ruby,
Grades really don’t matter unless you want to go to grad school. Mom will tell you this in about 10 years and you’ll think what the actual hell. Why are you crying over a math test at 12. It doesn’t matter. At what point did you stop worrying about which kids were going to stay after school and go sledding, and started coming in from recess early to squeeze some last minute equations on the one page of notes you were allowed to have. Take a breath, it’s all gonna be fine. It seems pointless to give you advice since it won’t make a difference. It also seems unfair to burden you with the stress of an all knowing college student. Really I should be telling you to just give this letter to mom. Although that might send her already prevalent insecurities about parenting off the deep end. Maybe give it to dad. Maybe that would be a good chain of information. Give it straight to him, then he can make it palatable for mom, and then she can prevent the inevitable separation that will occur between the two of you. You’ll probably bring it to her first anyways to ask what prevalent and inevitable mean. I’m sure this is all a bit abstract for you. I bet you were hoping for some advice about how to make Kiley like you again or whether that one kid has a crush on you too. Don’t worry about it, it’ll all work out. I will say this though, don’t lose your shit when mom says her and dad are getting a divorce; she’s just being dramatic.
Dear past me,
I think on first glance you may be disappointed, but I swear it’s better than it looks. First off, let’s address the elephant in the room, shall we…I don’t have a boyfriend. Don’t lose your mind, I’m gay it’s not that serious, but condolences on that loss I do remember your one true desire was to have a boyfriend. My bad. You were always such a romantic, waiting to be swept off your feet and whisked away. You were so pretty and kind I think a lot of boys did like you not to boost your ego or anything. Pretty smile, pretty face, always desired and loved. I want to be you. But you and I are not so different really. I also want to be swept off my feet and have long blonde hair with a single blue streak. I want every dress in every color, every doll on the shelf, and I want to get married in a white gown to someone beautiful. I’m probably more like you than I’ve ever been. Giddy with a crush, trying my best to get her to notice me. I hold my gaze a second longer than needed, my leg touches theirs and I keep it there. I don’t have to explain it to you, you get it. We’ve always been good at playing those games. Maybe I should warn you that things get hard, but it’s nothing you can’t handle so don’t worry about it. You totally rock teen angst, it’s classic. We’re really lucky, I think you probably know that. A best friend for every town, every new home. Appreciate that. I’ve learned that others aren’t so lucky. To really get someone so different from you; we’ve understood love all along. I love everything you do and say I think you are pretty in every way. I want you to know I love the person I am and I love the person I’m becoming. You made me that person. I’m not so shy anymore you know. Getting older grows confidence, slowly but surely. I think you’d like me; you’d realize we have the same hopes and dreams, that we could talk all night about crushes, that we could paint our names and braid each other’s hair. I’m growing my hair as long as I can for you. It’s our favorite dream.
In your moments of sadness, you wished you could talk to me, to tell you it’s all okay, and here I am now. I wish I could say everything is perfect and has worked out, but you are still very lost and confused. But as I enter my twenties, I look towards who you are, to rediscover myself in that childhood sense one more. There is a freedom of being a child that I feel jealous you still have. At some point, you will learn that aspects of you are wrong and that you must shrink in shame. I wish I could protect you from that, but I am trying to save us from it now. But enjoy your freedom— I think back to our huge yard in Amity, caring for the wall of ladybugs and the neighborhood stray cats. I think about how you played teacher with all your stuffed animals, writing out schedules and seating charts and class photos. You would be excited that we teach kids now; when I see how small they are, I think of you and feel sick to my stomach. But not everything is bad. You know people who love you. You are exploring the other side of the country. I feel like I don’t know myself well right now, so I think of you. I saw a video of you talking about your cat, and I heard your soft voice and saw your bright eyes. I need to take care of me because I am still you. You are still me. So I make art to be more like you— with the carefree whim instead of persistent perfectionism. I have so many good things to say about you, but really I just want to know what you think about me. Do you like me? Have I made you proud? Then, I’ll know I’m doing it right.
I know that nobody told you how beautiful you are, especially your heart, maybe they told you how beautiful you are just for their satisfaction. I wish you knew everything that was taught to you and told to you was a lie. I am proud of you that internally you never gave up, even in the most intense difficult times. I want to thank you for not giving up and knowing that human beings exist. Just go to nature more because you knew that was the only outlet. Love you dear.
The email you set me to receive on my 18th birthday did not ruin my day as I had likely suspected it would. Instead, it made me realize my body issues began much younger than I knew of. I was under the impression that I began struggling with weight gain and eating disorders after the death of my grandmother in 2015; however, your email is from April 25th, 2014, more than a full year before her passing. Not much of the email is of importance or relevance to me now, except for your parting words: “I want more than anything else, to not be fat.” Your words break my heart, because you were not fat, even if the girls on the softball team made fun of your “muffin top.” And even if you were, who cares? You were only 11 years old, only one year into having your period, and not even having had your first kiss. I know mum made you feel bad about eating desert, and I know you quickly realized how different you looked from your siblings, but that is okay. Different is not a negative.
I wish I could tell you I was thin now, but that is far from the truth; I wish I could tell you things would get easier, but that too is far from the truth. Next year, your closest relative will die, and a few years later your godfather will get dementia and die too. Following him is your aunt, and all these deaths will lay heavy on your soul. Highschool will be hard; you will struggle in your classes, struggle with friendships, and struggle even greater over relationships. However, there are moments that make everything worth it. Getting into Mount Holyoke College, sneaking out with your best friend Clara, finding your first love, and many more.
If I could leave you with one wish, it would be to enjoy childhood a little longer and not worry about your body or looks so much. That is something I’m still trying to internalize.
Yeah, it’s you. It’s you from the future. I’m almost 20 years old now which is crazy because I remember when you were looking up to all of the college students and wondered how they made it. Trust me, it wasn’t easy but look at us now. We’re unstoppable. But, before I get too deep into this, let’s just go with the flow.
Aswini is currently in law school in Chicago. We still argue a lot over the dumbest stuff ever, but we also have gotten significantly better and a lot closer with each other. Sure he’s rude and tries to get on my nerves, but I also eventually realized what he was going through with you and how much he cared and still cares about you. It sucks knowing how much he suffered and how much he stood up for you without you even realizing it though. Rover, unfortunately, passed away a week after you graduated high school, I’m so sorry. I know you wanted him to live forever and have a great life. He only lived till 12 and died from cancer. I’m still dealing with the aftermath a year and a half later, and sometimes it gets me. However, I know that he fought so hard to see us graduate and grow up, and he’s always gonna be with us no matter what. Chocolate or should I say Booger(it’s a long story) is still here with us though. He and Rover ended up getting along and he had separation anxiety from Rover. He’s still dealing with the aftermath, but he seems to be getting a bit better. I’m trying to cherish every single moment with him even though he’s nice to everyone else but you. He’s also now the favorite child so when he does something, you’re the one that’s in trouble, not him. It sucks because while Mom’s yelling at you for his mistake, he’s just sitting wagging his tail. You also quit tennis because of the pressure and stress from everyone. I know you might be sad about this, but trust me looking back, this is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
Anyways, let’s get into the deep stuff. I am a Biochemistry major focusing on Biology and Chemistry in college. I am on the road to becoming a doctor, and I believe that I have had a successful run so far(knock on wood). Teachers finally started seeing us for our worth and not for our inability to follow directions and miss information(also the reason for that is that no one knew that you had ADHD, a condition that affected your attention). Students started seeing you as a true friend, and not just someone they could bully. And Mom and Dad finally believed in you and they are so proud of you. I know it’s hard because you have so many people putting you down. But trust me, you are so worth much more than what people think. You are funny, kind, loud, quirky, nerdy, and a bit crazy too. And we still are those things. That’s what makes us amazing and unique. And you are so smart and your worth isn’t defined by the grades you get right now. It’ll take time, but you’ll start to know that if you have the passion, you can do anything. My biggest regret is that I once believed all those words when I was younger, and hated myself. But looking back, I wish I loved you a lot more. I wish I had seen how amazing you were and continued with that confidence growing older. But I guess this is my lesson to you now. Please don’t let anything hold you back from reaching your full potential, and make sure to love yourself. I love you.
Dear younger self,
Take your nose out of a book for a second and listen to me, please. You will hate what I have to tell you but you will forgive me, too.
Dear younger self,
I won’t tell you what life looks like. You love reading the last page of a book first. You don’t like unpredictability. It’s fair. I do too.
Dear younger self,
You have to understand that life is not like a book. Even though we like to see it as one. I can’t spoil this for you.
Dear younger self,
Just…live. Don’t wait around and try to skip phases of your life but live them to the fullest.
Dear younger self,
I am twenty-three and stressed about time running out. Faster, faster, faster. I know you would understand.
Dear younger self,
My memory is a melancholic storm of almost forgotten moments. You don’t understand. That’s okay.
Dear younger self,
Remember this. For me, for you, for us. Film moments are the ones you treasure the most. Cherish them.
Dear younger self,
Catch that blissful winter night. Put it in a jar, seal it, keep it. Marmeladenglasmoment.
Dear younger self,
I don’t want to tell you about my life. You will see it anyway. I want to remember yours. Tell me a story, will you?
This is future you in college. Believe it or not you will finally find a school that you love and that accepts you unconditionally for who you are. You will actually want to learn and be there. You will double major in psychology and film!
You will eventually ease your mind a bit, from the constant stress. However, it will still be there. You never give up from anything and the moment somebody tells you that you can’t do something you will do it better and faster than they ever expected. That will never change.
There is more to you than the way you look, especially your heart. If men look a bit deeper, maybe they would see that too. Certainly today is not that day, but one day they will. Things will definitely work themselves out so no need to worry at all.
I just wanted to let you know that I think you are okay just the way you are.
I think it’s amazing that you like to spin around and think that everything is beautiful and deserves to be taken care of. I know right now you think everyone is like that. Anyway, I think you should hold onto that. We grew up to be a lot like mom in that we talk a lot. Sometimes I don’t like this about myself, but I know that for a while there, we were very, very quiet. If you are from the quiet years, it is going to be okay.
We are almost twenty. I know that will sound pretty scary to you. I know that when you turned ten, you and your dad cried and cried together. But, having two numbers is not as scary as it seemed. I know they’re not, but they’re just numbers. When we turned ten, things did change, but not because we were ten, because things just change. I know that also sounds very scary. Some of this letter will be. But I need you to keep reading if you can, or put it away for later, when you’re ready. You’re good at knowing when you’re ready.
When you’re a teenager, people will start telling you you’re good at something. I won’t tell you what, but I think you know. I don’t always believe them now, but I think maybe you would have. I don’t quite remember. So, some of the things you love, you are good at. People will help you get better and better. People will watch you play pretend, and sing, and read your stories, and sometimes they will like it, but what’s most important is that you do.
When we were five, or six, we saw Peter Pan by the ocean. I remember the smell, the magic, your feet not touching the floor. You knew that you wanted to be a part of that. When you are older, you will watch a movie adaptation of a book you once loved and think, in a moment of humanity, “I could do better than that.” You allowed yourself the notion, for once. This is one small/big thing you did. You have been on the stage, blinded. You’ve painted the world. In a month or so, you will help someone dress the characters, the way you used to dress dolls to tell stories. You have set up the camera, captured the sound. You have learned to ask where the eyes are, when a recent stranger breathes shallow and holds the camera at you. Pretending things aren’t there will become very helpful. You will learn to listen, and sometimes, remember. You don’t dance anymore, not like you used to, but now, you feel it. You miss its good parts.
There are also things that you love that you are still not very good at, and that is okay. It is good to do things because you love them. Also, sometimes even things you love will be very hard to do. You might feel like you want to give up, or even that it’s IMPOSSIBLE to keep going, but… if you try very hard, and take care of yourself, these things can still make you very, very happy in the end.
It is okay to not know what you want your life to look like. Even if you did, life has a funny way of turning out in unexpected ways. Still, it is good to dream. Dream a colorful life for yourself. Dream yourself a way out.
Now, this one might rock your world a little bit. The message of Matilda isn’t that if you’re really, really smart you’ll develop telekinesis. Or even that if you’re REALLY, really smart, someone will come and take you away to a better place because of your specialness. It’s actually that, sometimes, we have to take action to change our own stories. I know you really wish that someone would come to help you, and change things, and you deserve that, but just in case, remember that. You’re not helpless or powerless, even if you feel like you are.
Family isn’t everything, but you like them much more now that you don’t live with them, and you’re a little more grown up. They are just people now. And it’s okay to like people and also be mad at them sometimes.
Sometimes people are mean to you on purpose. I know you don’t know that that’s something people do, but now you do. You can forget it if you need to, I won’t be upset with you. I promise. Anyway, sometimes people will be mean. They will do things that make you feel upset, or unsafe, or angry, or scared, or all those big words. It is okay to be mad with them. You don’t have to make excuses for them. You don’t even have to talk to them ever again if you don’t want to.
It is okay to be grateful and also want things. It is okay to be grateful and wish that things were different. Two things can be true at the same time, and you deserve the things you want, then. They are simple things.
The way that people feel about who you are isn’t your fault, and it doesn’t always matter. Sometimes people will think you are who you are just to hurt them, or make their lives harder. Now, you and I both know that’s not true, but sometimes, telling people that we don’t mean to make them feel those things can help them understand and hurt less.
Sometimes you need a lot of help. Even now, we need a lot of help. It is okay to need a lot of help. Being a grownup doesn’t mean not needing help. Honestly, it doesn’t mean much of anything at all. But, if you need help, you do have to tell people. You’re going to get really good at helping people know how to help you.
Sometimes you do things that aren’t nice. Sometimes you will feel like a bad person. There are people that will love you anyway. Also, usually when you’re being a little mean you just need some space, or some quiet, or some food, or some sleep. You need to draw a picture or watch a movie and let yourself cry. About that – soon, or maybe already, you will stop crying. You can start again. It won’t feel good, but it’s okay. You can do it.
Sometimes, you will have thoughts that make you feel like you’re a bad person. You know the ones. Or I hope you don’t. Sometimes, we have thoughts that don’t really belong to us. Having a bad thought, or one you don’t agree with, doesn’t make you dangerous. Doing things you think are bad from time to time doesn’t make you a bad person.
Soon, or already, you are going to discover some things about yourself that are true. You will tell yourself they aren’t, and that’s okay. Sometimes we have to wait till we’re ready. But I promise, 99.9% of what you know about yourself is true. Maybe even 100%, but I’l leave the 0.1 just in case. They will come back when it’s time.
Sometimes, you’re going to be the only person who understands you, or the only person that believes you. I know that’s one of the worst feelings in the world, but it’s okay. It gets a little bit easier. And our brain isn’t even done yet!
Sooo in terms of spoilers I can give you. Things to look forward to. Well, you don’t know it yet – in fact, you think QUITE the opposite, and I’m proud of you for it – but someday, you might want to get married. You might even have friends that do get married, which I know sounds crazy. Long story short, they can do that now. Also, the magical medicine you wanted so badly exists now, and people are trying very hard to make sure that people like you can have it, so they can be the sort of person they want to be. Speaking of medicine, we take medicine now, like dad did. It is okay. We keep them in a rainbow container, which is exciting, and they help us feel like we did when we were three or four. Maybe that’s your age now. Well.
There are people like you on Broadway now. They make TV shows and movies and write books. You listen to music written for you, and sometimes stores will even have little shirts or pins for people like you. There are big events, and tiny ones, and many many people that you care about, and that care about you. I know you may have wanted a fairy godmother. We have that now, or as close to it as possible.
You actually have decent taste in music, and it becomes kind of cool to dress silly and wear a ton of blush like you used to. They also made Percy Jackson into a TV series you would have loved. Also, if you haven’t already, you should really get into Doctor Who – not the weird old episodes dad will want you to watch, the new ones. Also, your hair is actually sort of curly, not as much as mom’s, but sort of, not just fluffy and tangly. Eventually you get to cut your hair a little, so now you can take care of it. And you do have a sensitive scalp, you weren’t just being dramatic. Also, someone you love very much, and who loves you, really loves to dance.
Now, the last, big sneak peak I think I’ve already given you is that we live this far. And, don’t ask me how I know, but, I think we’ll probably make it a whole lot longer.
I love you, I miss you, I’m proud of you, and I’ll see you soon.
I am you as a senior in college! Although, I’m assuming you’re around 9 years old and don’t quite know yet what being a “senior in college” really means. And that’s okay. I know it’s hard to imagine yourself as an adult. It’s hard for me too. It seems like only yesterday that I was you. I think about you a lot.
I think of you whenever I draw. I think of your insistence on only drawing that one scene over and over: You and mom baking snickerdoodles. I think of how far I’ve come since then, and how much my drawing skills have improved. They’re called snickerdoodles, by the way. Definitely less wordy than “cinnamon sugar cookies.”
I think of you whenever I pass a tennis court. I remember your insistence on just having fun, and not caring much when the games got too competitive. This is what will eventually drive you to quit playing tennis altogether. Today, you’re much more fond of video games.
I think of you whenever I pass by a playground, or a bouncy castle. I think of how happy I would be to go in there and have fun, but I don’t think I belong in those places like you do. They have a different kind of “height requirement.”
I thought of you when I was searching for new music to listen to. I know that you still listen to “I Hear The Bells” on repeat. I went and listened to it again, for your sake. It really is a good song. I think of you every time it comes on. Today, I listen to a lot of music I think you would love. I would love to be able to share it with you. Whenever I hear a new song, I try to judge whether or not it is something you would dance to. I don’t dance much anymore. There are always too many people watching.
I’m not as active or carefree as you anymore. Life is hard, and I care more about what people think of me. You would probably be disappointed at that. But I want you to know that even though I don’t run around in playgrounds, or play tennis, or draw that same picture of baking cookies, I always manage to somehow keep you with me. I still listen to your music, and I let you out whenever it comes on. And I do still dance, in private.
I hope you know, things are going well right now. I know it may not seem like it from where you’re stood, but this period of our life is one of reformation and of regrowth, of letting buds bloom slowly from the cracks in the concrete we carried round on our backs for years. I want you to know I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry we had to shudder under that weight, I’m sorry I didn’t let anyone help us carry it. I know you were scared when you saw it coming, even if you couldn’t understand it. I’m sorry for the confusion you had to steep your thoughts in, both the expected one of adolescence, as well the larger chaos which collapsed in on us. Sometimes I wish I could pick you up and hold you, and let you know that you were not the problem, and that you never should have been the consequences. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t been so hard on us, and I’d let your silly little ideas ran rampant. I’m sorry I didn’t let us sing.
So you don’t worry that I’ve forgotten, I do remember all the hide and seek in the flat in London, the giggling and gleeful zooming around the house in Ireland, the playful secrecy of hiding liquor bottles under Lara’s bed. I remember the mirth which bounced down the corridors of our life.
I want you to know that I’m still trying to make sure that that excitement we had for every new sound, smell, and obviously taste, never dies down. I am slowly letting thoughts and feelings grow from the scorched earth of the past, and I hope, more than anything, that you’ll keep looking forward to see where we go next.
I know we don’t talk often, but I do look out for you.
I get on the transparent train and press my face against the window-wall and experience the echoes, fragmented voices, pieces of memories long forgotten that reside amongst the weathered tracks. Sometimes I just ride it forever, enjoying the ever-changing collage. But I typically get off on any ordinary day to see you.
I know you don’t see me, the Past is unyielding, unchanging–painfully set in stone–so I can’t really engage with you. But that’s okay. I don’t go visit to change you. I go visit you because I’m the only one left that can love you. Love from others is powerful, as it shows you that you deserve kindness and affection, but the only true healing is born from love for yourself. And that’s what I do. If you’ve ever felt a random rush of warmth, or a soft, invisible hand on your shoulder–know that’s me. I’m there for you, so feel free to rage and cry as much as you need to.
Sometimes, when you really seem to need it, I step into you. I’ll take over your consciousness, your pain, and live through your experiences so you can rest for a bit. But don’t worry. I’m not confined to your raw naivety. I know what’s happening, so it doesn’t hurt me as bad. Besides, it does me good to remember. I lose my patience with you sometimes, I’ll admit. When you tense up inside my heart at any raised voice; when you grab onto me and refuse to let me tell my friends how I’m doing; when your bittersweet gray presses on my chest and makes me feel so, so cold. I lose my patience when you interrupt my life; but then I remember that this is your life.
I won’t tell you about all the good things that we have going for us right now, at least not in detail. I know that might make you bitter, or might make you feel invalidated. But just know, everything is okay. Even better, everything has been going great for a while now.
How are you? Isn’t crazy where we are right now?! Seeing the path we were going on I was never sure where we would end up. So much has been learned and we stayed true to our stubborn selves. You may have never thought what you do is ever enough but I promise you it is, and you are. Stop being so hard on yourself! It’s okay to feel, put that wall down and let people through. I know that the trials of life made you guarded and the confusion of growing up around no one who looked like you changed how you viewed the world, but don’t let that hinder your experiences.
Now in other news, One Direction will actually never get back together no matter how many times they try to say they’re on a “break” (don’t tell Tracy). Whatever you do don’t eat those croquettes at the party, those chain mails are not real, and no Musically does not exist anymore :(. Also, the 2014 winning Lotto ticket number is 3 7 44 63 67 12 4. Present you would really appreciate this, love you!!
I remember you used to walk down the halls of your elementary school with your arms crossed in front of your chest. The well-meaning guidance counselor told you that you shouldn’t do that because it made you look mean and unapproachable. It was protective, and you know that now.
Adults always seemed to be afraid of you on some level, even when you were about four feet tall. From preschool to third grade, you were constantly getting into trouble. You believed nap time was an extension of play time. Mrs. Boron, your kindergarten teacher and stealer of joy, didn’t. I can still picture her bony figure towering over you after she caught you scurrying back and forth between your friends’ cots like you were in Mission Impossible. You were an instigator, and she didn’t like that. Her arms were crossed when she yelled at you that day. I guess it’s okay when adults do it.
The same guidance counselor that made you feel self-conscious also made you feel so powerful. “She’s got fire, that one”, she said to my mom one day with a smile. The fire is still there. And, to my future self – never let it go out.
Dear younger Amelia,
As I sit down to write this letter, I am filled with so many different emotions and thoughts. I think back to our journey through life and the hardships and triumphs we had to endure to get where we are today. Honestly, Amelia, I think the journey we went through was the best one we could have endured. We turned into a driven student, athlete, and leader in many organizations. Honestly, I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know what changed in our younger selves to push us and make us more driven and determined to do better, but whatever it was I wouldn’t change that at all.
Honestly, Amelia, I miss you. I miss being you, young and carefree. I miss playing in the yard with Aaron and Ian and Jude and just not having a care in the world. I miss running around our properties, playing nerf gun wars, hide and seek, capture the flag and more. I honestly sit here and look back and can’t remember the last time we went out in the yard to play and use our imaginations. I miss being a kid.
Amelia, it would be stupid of me to not give you some advice while I’m sitting here writing a letter to you. For starters, live life to the fullest and enjoy being the carefree child that you are, it will all go away soon. Don’t change your personality to match those around you, later in life people will begin to see you and love you for who YOU are. Work hard throughout your life and start to fight to earn what you want. It can’t just get handed to you, you need to work for it. Fight for your dreams as well, and work hard at lacrosse. That sport will bring you so much joy in the future, so make sure you get to continue playing in high school and college. And finally, surround yourself with people who make you happy and who care about you. Don’t try to fit in and don’t be bothered if those around you hate on you for being different. You are who you are and no one can change that.
In the years to come, you will embark on a remarkable journey filled with love, laughter, and countless adventures. Embrace each moment with an open heart and a curious mind, for life is a wondrous gift waiting to be unwrapped.
Know who you are Amelia, and follow your path and yours alone.
Hi, little one! <3 Take a big breath, and don’t worry, sweet. I promise I won’t tell you anything you don’t already know. Knowing you, I imagine you’re startled to get a letter from your future self. I was a little startled to send it at first, but I’m not anymore; I won’t tell you anything that alters the course of things.
I won’t tell you anything that alters the timeline, not because everything happens like it should. In fact, things shatter. You might know already. You might already be feeling that start to happen inside. I won’t even say that I want you to go through it, be better for it. I don’t, honey. I really don’t.
In fact, there are so many things I choose not to say that would alter the course. There are places I could tell you to steer clear of, mindsets to adopt or dispell. I want to tell you so badly it hurts my throat. I well up, thinking of you, but don’t be afraid, kiddo! The same number of terrible things and amazing ones are ahead, and for the worst of it, you’re strong as hell. I just want to explain to you, too, that you are loved. What I mean is, I well up, thinking about how miraculously soft you are. You sing 60’s motown and dream about cooking with your future wife in matching pink-checkered aprons, tying the strings together playfully. Every righteous thought in your loving little head is so genuine, and I know you don’t want to hurt anybody. You see bullies and you seek out their victims to make friends. You might feel like you’re too much, but you and I both know you’re spreading a light as best you can, and what you do is for good. Mistakes are made every now and then, and that’s okay.
Sadly, you won’t always be like this. You will be able to watch violent tv shows. You’ll bask in an icy castle you’ll build for yourself. You’ll snicker looking at your own blue wrists, point them out in humor to a friend you’re sure will leave you eventually, and you’ll tell them to their face you don’t need them or anyone else. (They’ll come back.) You’re ridiculous for a period of time when you’re twenty one. I want to save you from it all, from everything that made you hurt that way, but here’s the truth.
How you get here doesn’t matter. If you experience it once in your life, your life is worth living, and what’s more, I know you’ve already felt it: that understanding words don’t do much justice to, of equal love. You’re shedding the burdens of hierarchy and judgment, knowing everyone around you is also you. You might even learn someday that nature is a part of this, too. That soft feeling inside – that wants to live and help others live – that little something who’s only aware, who only loves to be, to resonate the cosmos, who witnesses this mind and body with compassion and wonder, is ‘all’ that matters. “All” as in all. Not “all” as in ‘the only thing.’ She is everything, everyone.
I don’t know how I still believe it, Gracie. To be honest, optimism in me has perished again recently. I’m not writing to you from the end of your story. You’re stuck with the changing weather, like the rest of us, and you’re stuck with the second chapter of me, not chapter ten or twenty. I’m not writing to you from your Disney ending. I still have things to say though, if you’ll hear me, little one.
I know you’re already so scared of it happening, but you can wipe those tears away, love of my life. Guess what? I won’t keep that secret from you. You should know, you made it through. You didn’t take your life, and you won’t. At least a few times, I have to tell you that you lived. I can’t refrain from assuring you. I just can’t.
There’ll come a period in time when you’ll wonder each day, when that ice around your heart finally melts, if it will still be intact, or if it’ll be an altered organ, made up of different compounds, unable to beat to the same rhythm it did before.
I know the answer, but that is the one I can’t tell you. You’ll understand eventually, but it isn’t a simple yes or no.
Your body, and your art piece of a mind, is going to be weathered, sweetheart. But, despise how strange that feels, you have to remember that your soul is untouchable. No matter how that body grows, how many neuronal axons link…how much you store, or how big your house grows, you stay a child in the purest ways one can describe a child; you are a small piece of the universe who only wants to love.
So, I guess I didn’t really need that time machine to send this to you. I’m writing to you now, who is still here with me. Maybe you read it a long time ago, through the love I sent to the past. Maybe I just remembered what I wrote, what I read. I know you knew it then, and you still know it now. Please always accept this artistic form of my company.
I can see you through the sands of time
The transparency of glass says we’re anigh
But parting us are seasons of blooming prudence
Which, I know , to reach here, I’ve crossed by.
Carefree eyes, blithe moves and cheery talks
Merry insouciance is, what in you, I see
But shadows of fresh agonies make it hard
To believe you’re none but the younger me!!
These separating years , to say,
Are deep flowing waters joining end- to- end
And hence, on each wave, writing
Lessons of ‘new’ years, to you, dear “me”, I send.
On the first wave of the salt- chuck waters,
I carve the agony of a dainty, craving heart…
-A weary little chunk of flesh and blood,
Tired hunting solace of love- “an extinct art”
Dear “me”, I remember how badly you wanted
A world for your own single soul
But now, when I “breathe” in it, I tell you…
The forlorn appetite craves togetherness in an empty bowl!
There are no hands of friendship now, no cradles of motherhood
No shoulder to lead grief to dismiss
Every little word of comfort is now what
Your “grown-up” self really tends to miss
The next wave dear “me” is an acknowledgement
To your adored yet, transient freedom
The boundless fields of purview that you see
Are none but trinkets in your own little kingdom!!
‘Coz when you deem your own “precious” self,
what counts are cloudy opportunities hovering,
but when the “eyes around” deem your “older” self
What counts is the length of her “robes” covering;
The tunnels of time have been so partial
Now I don’t chirp, I don’t cheer,
But you must live your blithe and merry sounds
Killing within the slightest fear.
The next wave, oh dear! Brings to you
Essence of gloom that fondly dwells with me,
Startled at the sudden loss of bliss,
My delicate and weary spirit yells with me!
I see you, and so I know, I had my own
Jocund company at all hours of the day,
But now, dreadful silence and nasty nightmares
Are all whom I can even ask to stay…
Dear younger me, you’ll see many stages in life…
But at this “merry hour”, to you, I do insist
Slurp the very essence of bliss around you
‘Coz it’s you who lives, I simple “exist”
Though i have more” stories” to hold
You and me are still the very same “shelf”
Through these gliding waves and tides…
I send this letter to you- my adorable “younger self
I send this letter to you my adorable “younger self”!!!
24 responses to “Letter to Childhood Self”
Hi Past Me!
In the past, you’ve written many letters to me. It’s about time I returned the favor. But rather than spoil the rest of your life for you, I figured I would answer 9 of your most asked questions in your letters.
1) How are you?
I’m pretty good. I know so much more about us now. I can’t say I’ve figured everything out yet, but I’m getting there. My big takeaway is: there is absolutely nothing wrong with us. Nothing. No matter how much it seems that way, no matter how many times you may think it, no matter how many people tell you that, there is nothing wrong. We are exactly who we are. There were and are struggles, I won’t ever deny that. But we have survived them and you will too
2) Where are you?
Well, I’m at Mount Holyoke College in South Hadley, Massachusetts… and you have no idea where that is. But that’s okay! You’ll figure it out soon. And for even younger me: yes, we made it out of the south.
3) Who are your friends?
I have found some truly incredible friends here. I won’t name them here, but trust me, we no longer feel so alone. And if I could give you one piece of advice: she’s not your friend. I know it’s harsh, but she was never your friend. Real friends don’t hurt you. They don’t make you feel worthless. They don’t manipulate you or use you. Real friends are nothing like her. I know it won’t change anything, but it had to be said.
4) Do you have a boyfriend?
No. Fun fact: I’m gay.
5) Do you have a girlfriend?
Also no. But I’m working on it.
6) What’s your favorite movie/show/book?
Listen, it’s gonna be a tough thing to learn, but your love for Harry Potter does not age well. Nowadays, DC comics takes the cake. Which in all honesty, will probably also not age well. But here we both are, living in ignorant bliss.
7) Favorite artist or band?
Again, hate to break it to you, but your favorite band right now also doesn’t age well. Now it’s small indie artists that fill my headphones.
8) Have we written a book yet?
… Well we wrote something book length. But it won’t be published (copyrights and all that). But please don’t be dissuaded, keep writing and keep dreaming.
9) Does… does it get better?
Yeah. Yeah, it does.
With love and hope,
Ev
(oh yeah, we go by Ev now, but I’ll let you figure out that one yourself)
P.S. Future me,
1) How are you?
2) Where are you?
3) Who are your friends?
4) Still gay, I hope
5) Please, please tell me you have a partner
6) What’s your favorite movie/show/book?
7) Favorite artist or band?
8) Have we written a publishable book?
9) I’m not worried about this one
I’m writing to you even though I hardly remember you. I’m writing to you like a long-lost daughter. Which you are, aren’t you? My child. You grew up like an overwatered plant, like a pig ripened for the slaughter, always for someone other than yourself. You grew up awkwardly, like a person trying to fit into a dollhouse, limbs dangling from open windows. I suppose I want to say that I’m sorry, because just as much as I raised you, I hated you. Could barely look at you some days, like the mirror was the rotting portrait of Dorian Gray. I’m so sorry. Because you were beautiful, jumping from rock to rock in the forest, laughing that crackling laugh that only truly belongs to a child, wearing sparkly skirts and ruby red Dorothy shoes. You were everything to me. You are everything to me, even though new pieces of you fall away with every passing hour. If fragments of you still exist inside me, you will be happy to know that we are content. That I still love the forest, and I still laugh plenty. That I grew so big that the dollhouse snapped, and now I get to build my own home. That you are not to be blamed for being an adult in a child’s body, and that sometimes I still see you in my eyes. That I love you enough for the both of us. And I miss you every day.
To my littler self:
You are not to blame for things you did before you could even write your
own name
You do not have to carry the weight of another person, let them carry it
themselves; they can and should do it
I know you are trying to help but sometimes when we try to help, we can
do more harm than good
Letting them go will help not only them but you as well, I promise; you
will be free to be your own person
Do not feel bad for what you have already done, the past can not be fixed,
just focus on what can be improved on in the future.
You have taken on so much, you do not have to do that anymore, take that
weight off your shoulders
If this does not make any sense just know that I love you, you are so brave
and kind.
You and I are the same. I would not be me without you.
But God I wish this letter could reach you.
Maybe it would change nothing.
But I can’t not wonder about what life would be like if things were different, if
I had been different.
Don’t worry. We are ok now. We were always really ok but it could have been
better.
I love you little-self, you are not to blame for who you are
Love,
your older self.
PS Say hello to everyone for me lol
PSS You’re gay
Hi, Che
I am writing to you from college, where it is currently snowing and freezing. You’ve always wanted to be able to experience all four seasons and break free from your Miami shell. I may be spoiling things for you, but we got accepted into our dream school and have the opportunity to experience everything we could have imagined. However, I want you to enjoy your childhood and the warmer winter days. Enjoy the days when mom invites you to the beach even though the water is choppy and it is windy outside. Enjoy the days when Cisco wants to drag you to the park to watch him play lacrosse. Enjoy the pastelitos, carne con papa, and arroz con pollo because Dad won’t be making them forever. Cherish every moment with Abuelo. Cherish the sounds of your dogs, the noise of the city, and the sound of your favorite car pulling into the driveway. You won’t be able to glance back on the small details of your childhood home because we grew up and achieved our goals. So, cherish them while you still can and always remember to love yourself.
Love,
Che
Hi, it’s me (us)!
Your life is going to change a lot, but it all ends up okay. I just needed you to hear that.
Do you remember that girl you saw on the bus in front of you on that skiing trip? The one that you decided was your future self. Not to spoil anything, but you aren’t her. First, we do not look like her. I remember she had plum hair and mascara, but we’ve never even considered dying our hair, and we tend to poke ourselves in the eye too much when applying mascara to ever get it as perfect as she did.
Second, we aren’t like her, personality-wise I mean. We never talked to her, so we know nothing about her really, but we don’t need to know her life story to know that we are our own unique person just as she is hers. We do not have her life, so we aren’t her. Simple.
I guess we can make some basic assumptions about her. One, she was about to go skiing. We haven’t skied in seven years. Insane right? It’s because we ended up moving from Minnesota to California. The move changed the trajectory of your life, and you cry and scream when you find out about it but, again, I promise you it all works out. California changes us for the better. It teaches us how to think and opens our world from a small always frozen town to a globe of different cultures and people. California is hard at first but when we move again, all you think about is going back.
We can make another assumption about her. She was chatting with a girl with long blond hair the entire ride. They clearly had been friends for a while. You don’t have a friend with long blond hair. Don’t freak out, Fen cuts their hair. We are still friends. In fact, this friendship is the most enduring friendship we have. We make it a point to see each other at least once a year and still have never seriously fought. We’ve got other friends too, ones in California, ones in North Carolina (where we moved after California — it’s not your favorite but, again, it all works out), Ellie is still around, and our college friends are better than we could have ever hoped for.
There aren’t any other assumptions I can make based on what limited information I remember about her. Maybe you could make some, maybe you did back then. It did just happen to you; the memory is fresh in your brain. Regardless, we were wrong. But just because we were wrong doesn’t mean that life feels wrong now. Life feels good, you’ve got a lot to look forward to even if our hair isn’t plum and our mascara is never flawless.
Dear Hailey,
That boy you like right now- stop crying over him. He is not worth your time. Besides, you don’t like boys very much anyway. If you are not crying over a boy right now, I apologize. I know you think of other things, too. You want to paint your nails and wear a full face of makeup to school. I am sorry you are stuck in your uniform. You will be liberated soon. In the meantime, you should convince Mom to take you to Justice every day because it will soon become ancient history and it is up to you to preserve real fashion.
I don’t know what to tell you. I feel like I need a 30-year-old me to tell me what to tell you. I know you want to grow up and be older. You want to wear short skirts like the older girls. You want a boyfriend to parade around. You want lighter skin and lighter hair and a house. You want vacations and attention and your baby hairs to be gone. You want to eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches instead of adobo and rice. No, you don’t. Eat your rice. You want popularity and mom is probably yelling at you. Don’t worry, one day you can yell back and she will laugh because she is your best friend.
But let me tell you a secret. When I look at you now, when I think of you, when I see photos of you, you are everything I want to be. You are always smiling and reading. You are always laughing with your friends. You are always taking selfies, apparently, according to my photo vault. You are designing and drawing and painting and writing. You are swimming in neon bikinis and braiding your hair into intricate patterns. In many ways, I feel like I’ve destroyed you. I apologize. I think I need your words, more than you need mine. Growing up is fun and cool, I guess, but honestly, it feels like wildfire. It creeps up on you instantly. It can’t be stopped and spreads to parts of your life that you cherish and thought were protected. You dream of being me, but I ache to be you. I don’t think I’ve brought you much joy through this letter. I apologize again. Perhaps one day you can come back to me, rebuild me, revive me, and teach me something that I never knew. You can lift my spirit. I know you are good at that.
Love,
Hailey
Dear Ruby,
Grades really don’t matter unless you want to go to grad school. Mom will tell you this in about 10 years and you’ll think what the actual hell. Why are you crying over a math test at 12. It doesn’t matter. At what point did you stop worrying about which kids were going to stay after school and go sledding, and started coming in from recess early to squeeze some last minute equations on the one page of notes you were allowed to have. Take a breath, it’s all gonna be fine. It seems pointless to give you advice since it won’t make a difference. It also seems unfair to burden you with the stress of an all knowing college student. Really I should be telling you to just give this letter to mom. Although that might send her already prevalent insecurities about parenting off the deep end. Maybe give it to dad. Maybe that would be a good chain of information. Give it straight to him, then he can make it palatable for mom, and then she can prevent the inevitable separation that will occur between the two of you. You’ll probably bring it to her first anyways to ask what prevalent and inevitable mean. I’m sure this is all a bit abstract for you. I bet you were hoping for some advice about how to make Kiley like you again or whether that one kid has a crush on you too. Don’t worry about it, it’ll all work out. I will say this though, don’t lose your shit when mom says her and dad are getting a divorce; she’s just being dramatic.
Dear past me,
I think on first glance you may be disappointed, but I swear it’s better than it looks. First off, let’s address the elephant in the room, shall we…I don’t have a boyfriend. Don’t lose your mind, I’m gay it’s not that serious, but condolences on that loss I do remember your one true desire was to have a boyfriend. My bad. You were always such a romantic, waiting to be swept off your feet and whisked away. You were so pretty and kind I think a lot of boys did like you not to boost your ego or anything. Pretty smile, pretty face, always desired and loved. I want to be you. But you and I are not so different really. I also want to be swept off my feet and have long blonde hair with a single blue streak. I want every dress in every color, every doll on the shelf, and I want to get married in a white gown to someone beautiful. I’m probably more like you than I’ve ever been. Giddy with a crush, trying my best to get her to notice me. I hold my gaze a second longer than needed, my leg touches theirs and I keep it there. I don’t have to explain it to you, you get it. We’ve always been good at playing those games. Maybe I should warn you that things get hard, but it’s nothing you can’t handle so don’t worry about it. You totally rock teen angst, it’s classic. We’re really lucky, I think you probably know that. A best friend for every town, every new home. Appreciate that. I’ve learned that others aren’t so lucky. To really get someone so different from you; we’ve understood love all along. I love everything you do and say I think you are pretty in every way. I want you to know I love the person I am and I love the person I’m becoming. You made me that person. I’m not so shy anymore you know. Getting older grows confidence, slowly but surely. I think you’d like me; you’d realize we have the same hopes and dreams, that we could talk all night about crushes, that we could paint our names and braid each other’s hair. I’m growing my hair as long as I can for you. It’s our favorite dream.
Dear Younger Sophie,
In your moments of sadness, you wished you could talk to me, to tell you it’s all okay, and here I am now. I wish I could say everything is perfect and has worked out, but you are still very lost and confused. But as I enter my twenties, I look towards who you are, to rediscover myself in that childhood sense one more. There is a freedom of being a child that I feel jealous you still have. At some point, you will learn that aspects of you are wrong and that you must shrink in shame. I wish I could protect you from that, but I am trying to save us from it now. But enjoy your freedom— I think back to our huge yard in Amity, caring for the wall of ladybugs and the neighborhood stray cats. I think about how you played teacher with all your stuffed animals, writing out schedules and seating charts and class photos. You would be excited that we teach kids now; when I see how small they are, I think of you and feel sick to my stomach. But not everything is bad. You know people who love you. You are exploring the other side of the country. I feel like I don’t know myself well right now, so I think of you. I saw a video of you talking about your cat, and I heard your soft voice and saw your bright eyes. I need to take care of me because I am still you. You are still me. So I make art to be more like you— with the carefree whim instead of persistent perfectionism. I have so many good things to say about you, but really I just want to know what you think about me. Do you like me? Have I made you proud? Then, I’ll know I’m doing it right.
Love, Current Sophie
Hey beautiful young me,
I know that nobody told you how beautiful you are, especially your heart, maybe they told you how beautiful you are just for their satisfaction. I wish you knew everything that was taught to you and told to you was a lie. I am proud of you that internally you never gave up, even in the most intense difficult times. I want to thank you for not giving up and knowing that human beings exist. Just go to nature more because you knew that was the only outlet. Love you dear.
Dear 11-year-old Kate,
The email you set me to receive on my 18th birthday did not ruin my day as I had likely suspected it would. Instead, it made me realize my body issues began much younger than I knew of. I was under the impression that I began struggling with weight gain and eating disorders after the death of my grandmother in 2015; however, your email is from April 25th, 2014, more than a full year before her passing. Not much of the email is of importance or relevance to me now, except for your parting words: “I want more than anything else, to not be fat.” Your words break my heart, because you were not fat, even if the girls on the softball team made fun of your “muffin top.” And even if you were, who cares? You were only 11 years old, only one year into having your period, and not even having had your first kiss. I know mum made you feel bad about eating desert, and I know you quickly realized how different you looked from your siblings, but that is okay. Different is not a negative.
I wish I could tell you I was thin now, but that is far from the truth; I wish I could tell you things would get easier, but that too is far from the truth. Next year, your closest relative will die, and a few years later your godfather will get dementia and die too. Following him is your aunt, and all these deaths will lay heavy on your soul. Highschool will be hard; you will struggle in your classes, struggle with friendships, and struggle even greater over relationships. However, there are moments that make everything worth it. Getting into Mount Holyoke College, sneaking out with your best friend Clara, finding your first love, and many more.
If I could leave you with one wish, it would be to enjoy childhood a little longer and not worry about your body or looks so much. That is something I’m still trying to internalize.
Sincerely,
Kate
Hey kid,
Yeah, it’s you. It’s you from the future. I’m almost 20 years old now which is crazy because I remember when you were looking up to all of the college students and wondered how they made it. Trust me, it wasn’t easy but look at us now. We’re unstoppable. But, before I get too deep into this, let’s just go with the flow.
Aswini is currently in law school in Chicago. We still argue a lot over the dumbest stuff ever, but we also have gotten significantly better and a lot closer with each other. Sure he’s rude and tries to get on my nerves, but I also eventually realized what he was going through with you and how much he cared and still cares about you. It sucks knowing how much he suffered and how much he stood up for you without you even realizing it though. Rover, unfortunately, passed away a week after you graduated high school, I’m so sorry. I know you wanted him to live forever and have a great life. He only lived till 12 and died from cancer. I’m still dealing with the aftermath a year and a half later, and sometimes it gets me. However, I know that he fought so hard to see us graduate and grow up, and he’s always gonna be with us no matter what. Chocolate or should I say Booger(it’s a long story) is still here with us though. He and Rover ended up getting along and he had separation anxiety from Rover. He’s still dealing with the aftermath, but he seems to be getting a bit better. I’m trying to cherish every single moment with him even though he’s nice to everyone else but you. He’s also now the favorite child so when he does something, you’re the one that’s in trouble, not him. It sucks because while Mom’s yelling at you for his mistake, he’s just sitting wagging his tail. You also quit tennis because of the pressure and stress from everyone. I know you might be sad about this, but trust me looking back, this is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
Anyways, let’s get into the deep stuff. I am a Biochemistry major focusing on Biology and Chemistry in college. I am on the road to becoming a doctor, and I believe that I have had a successful run so far(knock on wood). Teachers finally started seeing us for our worth and not for our inability to follow directions and miss information(also the reason for that is that no one knew that you had ADHD, a condition that affected your attention). Students started seeing you as a true friend, and not just someone they could bully. And Mom and Dad finally believed in you and they are so proud of you. I know it’s hard because you have so many people putting you down. But trust me, you are so worth much more than what people think. You are funny, kind, loud, quirky, nerdy, and a bit crazy too. And we still are those things. That’s what makes us amazing and unique. And you are so smart and your worth isn’t defined by the grades you get right now. It’ll take time, but you’ll start to know that if you have the passion, you can do anything. My biggest regret is that I once believed all those words when I was younger, and hated myself. But looking back, I wish I loved you a lot more. I wish I had seen how amazing you were and continued with that confidence growing older. But I guess this is my lesson to you now. Please don’t let anything hold you back from reaching your full potential, and make sure to love yourself. I love you.
Gautami Melekote
Dear younger self,
Take your nose out of a book for a second and listen to me, please. You will hate what I have to tell you but you will forgive me, too.
Dear younger self,
I won’t tell you what life looks like. You love reading the last page of a book first. You don’t like unpredictability. It’s fair. I do too.
Dear younger self,
You have to understand that life is not like a book. Even though we like to see it as one. I can’t spoil this for you.
Dear younger self,
Just…live. Don’t wait around and try to skip phases of your life but live them to the fullest.
Dear younger self,
I am twenty-three and stressed about time running out. Faster, faster, faster. I know you would understand.
Dear younger self,
My memory is a melancholic storm of almost forgotten moments. You don’t understand. That’s okay.
Dear younger self,
Remember this. For me, for you, for us. Film moments are the ones you treasure the most. Cherish them.
Dear younger self,
Catch that blissful winter night. Put it in a jar, seal it, keep it. Marmeladenglasmoment.
Dear younger self,
I don’t want to tell you about my life. You will see it anyway. I want to remember yours. Tell me a story, will you?
To my younger self-
This is future you in college. Believe it or not you will finally find a school that you love and that accepts you unconditionally for who you are. You will actually want to learn and be there. You will double major in psychology and film!
You will eventually ease your mind a bit, from the constant stress. However, it will still be there. You never give up from anything and the moment somebody tells you that you can’t do something you will do it better and faster than they ever expected. That will never change.
There is more to you than the way you look, especially your heart. If men look a bit deeper, maybe they would see that too. Certainly today is not that day, but one day they will. Things will definitely work themselves out so no need to worry at all.
Dear Child Monica,
Brace yourself (but not too much.)
Take life as it comes and friendship where it’s offered.
Dance every day.
You are a good person. You are a good person. You are a good person.
I love you.
Love,
Adult Monica
PS One day, you’ll be in a van with a cat and the whole wide world in front of you. Drive to the beach.
Hi.
It’s okay.
I just wanted to let you know that I think you are okay just the way you are.
I think it’s amazing that you like to spin around and think that everything is beautiful and deserves to be taken care of. I know right now you think everyone is like that. Anyway, I think you should hold onto that. We grew up to be a lot like mom in that we talk a lot. Sometimes I don’t like this about myself, but I know that for a while there, we were very, very quiet. If you are from the quiet years, it is going to be okay.
We are almost twenty. I know that will sound pretty scary to you. I know that when you turned ten, you and your dad cried and cried together. But, having two numbers is not as scary as it seemed. I know they’re not, but they’re just numbers. When we turned ten, things did change, but not because we were ten, because things just change. I know that also sounds very scary. Some of this letter will be. But I need you to keep reading if you can, or put it away for later, when you’re ready. You’re good at knowing when you’re ready.
When you’re a teenager, people will start telling you you’re good at something. I won’t tell you what, but I think you know. I don’t always believe them now, but I think maybe you would have. I don’t quite remember. So, some of the things you love, you are good at. People will help you get better and better. People will watch you play pretend, and sing, and read your stories, and sometimes they will like it, but what’s most important is that you do.
When we were five, or six, we saw Peter Pan by the ocean. I remember the smell, the magic, your feet not touching the floor. You knew that you wanted to be a part of that. When you are older, you will watch a movie adaptation of a book you once loved and think, in a moment of humanity, “I could do better than that.” You allowed yourself the notion, for once. This is one small/big thing you did. You have been on the stage, blinded. You’ve painted the world. In a month or so, you will help someone dress the characters, the way you used to dress dolls to tell stories. You have set up the camera, captured the sound. You have learned to ask where the eyes are, when a recent stranger breathes shallow and holds the camera at you. Pretending things aren’t there will become very helpful. You will learn to listen, and sometimes, remember. You don’t dance anymore, not like you used to, but now, you feel it. You miss its good parts.
There are also things that you love that you are still not very good at, and that is okay. It is good to do things because you love them. Also, sometimes even things you love will be very hard to do. You might feel like you want to give up, or even that it’s IMPOSSIBLE to keep going, but… if you try very hard, and take care of yourself, these things can still make you very, very happy in the end.
It is okay to not know what you want your life to look like. Even if you did, life has a funny way of turning out in unexpected ways. Still, it is good to dream. Dream a colorful life for yourself. Dream yourself a way out.
Now, this one might rock your world a little bit. The message of Matilda isn’t that if you’re really, really smart you’ll develop telekinesis. Or even that if you’re REALLY, really smart, someone will come and take you away to a better place because of your specialness. It’s actually that, sometimes, we have to take action to change our own stories. I know you really wish that someone would come to help you, and change things, and you deserve that, but just in case, remember that. You’re not helpless or powerless, even if you feel like you are.
Family isn’t everything, but you like them much more now that you don’t live with them, and you’re a little more grown up. They are just people now. And it’s okay to like people and also be mad at them sometimes.
Sometimes people are mean to you on purpose. I know you don’t know that that’s something people do, but now you do. You can forget it if you need to, I won’t be upset with you. I promise. Anyway, sometimes people will be mean. They will do things that make you feel upset, or unsafe, or angry, or scared, or all those big words. It is okay to be mad with them. You don’t have to make excuses for them. You don’t even have to talk to them ever again if you don’t want to.
It is okay to be grateful and also want things. It is okay to be grateful and wish that things were different. Two things can be true at the same time, and you deserve the things you want, then. They are simple things.
The way that people feel about who you are isn’t your fault, and it doesn’t always matter. Sometimes people will think you are who you are just to hurt them, or make their lives harder. Now, you and I both know that’s not true, but sometimes, telling people that we don’t mean to make them feel those things can help them understand and hurt less.
Sometimes you need a lot of help. Even now, we need a lot of help. It is okay to need a lot of help. Being a grownup doesn’t mean not needing help. Honestly, it doesn’t mean much of anything at all. But, if you need help, you do have to tell people. You’re going to get really good at helping people know how to help you.
Sometimes you do things that aren’t nice. Sometimes you will feel like a bad person. There are people that will love you anyway. Also, usually when you’re being a little mean you just need some space, or some quiet, or some food, or some sleep. You need to draw a picture or watch a movie and let yourself cry. About that – soon, or maybe already, you will stop crying. You can start again. It won’t feel good, but it’s okay. You can do it.
Sometimes, you will have thoughts that make you feel like you’re a bad person. You know the ones. Or I hope you don’t. Sometimes, we have thoughts that don’t really belong to us. Having a bad thought, or one you don’t agree with, doesn’t make you dangerous. Doing things you think are bad from time to time doesn’t make you a bad person.
Soon, or already, you are going to discover some things about yourself that are true. You will tell yourself they aren’t, and that’s okay. Sometimes we have to wait till we’re ready. But I promise, 99.9% of what you know about yourself is true. Maybe even 100%, but I’l leave the 0.1 just in case. They will come back when it’s time.
Sometimes, you’re going to be the only person who understands you, or the only person that believes you. I know that’s one of the worst feelings in the world, but it’s okay. It gets a little bit easier. And our brain isn’t even done yet!
Sooo in terms of spoilers I can give you. Things to look forward to. Well, you don’t know it yet – in fact, you think QUITE the opposite, and I’m proud of you for it – but someday, you might want to get married. You might even have friends that do get married, which I know sounds crazy. Long story short, they can do that now. Also, the magical medicine you wanted so badly exists now, and people are trying very hard to make sure that people like you can have it, so they can be the sort of person they want to be. Speaking of medicine, we take medicine now, like dad did. It is okay. We keep them in a rainbow container, which is exciting, and they help us feel like we did when we were three or four. Maybe that’s your age now. Well.
There are people like you on Broadway now. They make TV shows and movies and write books. You listen to music written for you, and sometimes stores will even have little shirts or pins for people like you. There are big events, and tiny ones, and many many people that you care about, and that care about you. I know you may have wanted a fairy godmother. We have that now, or as close to it as possible.
You actually have decent taste in music, and it becomes kind of cool to dress silly and wear a ton of blush like you used to. They also made Percy Jackson into a TV series you would have loved. Also, if you haven’t already, you should really get into Doctor Who – not the weird old episodes dad will want you to watch, the new ones. Also, your hair is actually sort of curly, not as much as mom’s, but sort of, not just fluffy and tangly. Eventually you get to cut your hair a little, so now you can take care of it. And you do have a sensitive scalp, you weren’t just being dramatic. Also, someone you love very much, and who loves you, really loves to dance.
Now, the last, big sneak peak I think I’ve already given you is that we live this far. And, don’t ask me how I know, but, I think we’ll probably make it a whole lot longer.
I love you, I miss you, I’m proud of you, and I’ll see you soon.
Hi, Lea!
I am you as a senior in college! Although, I’m assuming you’re around 9 years old and don’t quite know yet what being a “senior in college” really means. And that’s okay. I know it’s hard to imagine yourself as an adult. It’s hard for me too. It seems like only yesterday that I was you. I think about you a lot.
I think of you whenever I draw. I think of your insistence on only drawing that one scene over and over: You and mom baking snickerdoodles. I think of how far I’ve come since then, and how much my drawing skills have improved. They’re called snickerdoodles, by the way. Definitely less wordy than “cinnamon sugar cookies.”
I think of you whenever I pass a tennis court. I remember your insistence on just having fun, and not caring much when the games got too competitive. This is what will eventually drive you to quit playing tennis altogether. Today, you’re much more fond of video games.
I think of you whenever I pass by a playground, or a bouncy castle. I think of how happy I would be to go in there and have fun, but I don’t think I belong in those places like you do. They have a different kind of “height requirement.”
I thought of you when I was searching for new music to listen to. I know that you still listen to “I Hear The Bells” on repeat. I went and listened to it again, for your sake. It really is a good song. I think of you every time it comes on. Today, I listen to a lot of music I think you would love. I would love to be able to share it with you. Whenever I hear a new song, I try to judge whether or not it is something you would dance to. I don’t dance much anymore. There are always too many people watching.
I’m not as active or carefree as you anymore. Life is hard, and I care more about what people think of me. You would probably be disappointed at that. But I want you to know that even though I don’t run around in playgrounds, or play tennis, or draw that same picture of baking cookies, I always manage to somehow keep you with me. I still listen to your music, and I let you out whenever it comes on. And I do still dance, in private.
I hope you know, things are going well right now. I know it may not seem like it from where you’re stood, but this period of our life is one of reformation and of regrowth, of letting buds bloom slowly from the cracks in the concrete we carried round on our backs for years. I want you to know I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry we had to shudder under that weight, I’m sorry I didn’t let anyone help us carry it. I know you were scared when you saw it coming, even if you couldn’t understand it. I’m sorry for the confusion you had to steep your thoughts in, both the expected one of adolescence, as well the larger chaos which collapsed in on us. Sometimes I wish I could pick you up and hold you, and let you know that you were not the problem, and that you never should have been the consequences. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t been so hard on us, and I’d let your silly little ideas ran rampant. I’m sorry I didn’t let us sing.
So you don’t worry that I’ve forgotten, I do remember all the hide and seek in the flat in London, the giggling and gleeful zooming around the house in Ireland, the playful secrecy of hiding liquor bottles under Lara’s bed. I remember the mirth which bounced down the corridors of our life.
I want you to know that I’m still trying to make sure that that excitement we had for every new sound, smell, and obviously taste, never dies down. I am slowly letting thoughts and feelings grow from the scorched earth of the past, and I hope, more than anything, that you’ll keep looking forward to see where we go next.
Hello Past Me,
I know we don’t talk often, but I do look out for you.
I get on the transparent train and press my face against the window-wall and experience the echoes, fragmented voices, pieces of memories long forgotten that reside amongst the weathered tracks. Sometimes I just ride it forever, enjoying the ever-changing collage. But I typically get off on any ordinary day to see you.
I know you don’t see me, the Past is unyielding, unchanging–painfully set in stone–so I can’t really engage with you. But that’s okay. I don’t go visit to change you. I go visit you because I’m the only one left that can love you. Love from others is powerful, as it shows you that you deserve kindness and affection, but the only true healing is born from love for yourself. And that’s what I do. If you’ve ever felt a random rush of warmth, or a soft, invisible hand on your shoulder–know that’s me. I’m there for you, so feel free to rage and cry as much as you need to.
Sometimes, when you really seem to need it, I step into you. I’ll take over your consciousness, your pain, and live through your experiences so you can rest for a bit. But don’t worry. I’m not confined to your raw naivety. I know what’s happening, so it doesn’t hurt me as bad. Besides, it does me good to remember. I lose my patience with you sometimes, I’ll admit. When you tense up inside my heart at any raised voice; when you grab onto me and refuse to let me tell my friends how I’m doing; when your bittersweet gray presses on my chest and makes me feel so, so cold. I lose my patience when you interrupt my life; but then I remember that this is your life.
I won’t tell you about all the good things that we have going for us right now, at least not in detail. I know that might make you bitter, or might make you feel invalidated. But just know, everything is okay. Even better, everything has been going great for a while now.
I’ll keep holding you and visiting, don’t worry.
With Love,
You
Hello younger me,
How are you? Isn’t crazy where we are right now?! Seeing the path we were going on I was never sure where we would end up. So much has been learned and we stayed true to our stubborn selves. You may have never thought what you do is ever enough but I promise you it is, and you are. Stop being so hard on yourself! It’s okay to feel, put that wall down and let people through. I know that the trials of life made you guarded and the confusion of growing up around no one who looked like you changed how you viewed the world, but don’t let that hinder your experiences.
Now in other news, One Direction will actually never get back together no matter how many times they try to say they’re on a “break” (don’t tell Tracy). Whatever you do don’t eat those croquettes at the party, those chain mails are not real, and no Musically does not exist anymore :(. Also, the 2014 winning Lotto ticket number is 3 7 44 63 67 12 4. Present you would really appreciate this, love you!!
Sincerely,
Your better half
Dear little Isa,
I remember you used to walk down the halls of your elementary school with your arms crossed in front of your chest. The well-meaning guidance counselor told you that you shouldn’t do that because it made you look mean and unapproachable. It was protective, and you know that now.
Adults always seemed to be afraid of you on some level, even when you were about four feet tall. From preschool to third grade, you were constantly getting into trouble. You believed nap time was an extension of play time. Mrs. Boron, your kindergarten teacher and stealer of joy, didn’t. I can still picture her bony figure towering over you after she caught you scurrying back and forth between your friends’ cots like you were in Mission Impossible. You were an instigator, and she didn’t like that. Her arms were crossed when she yelled at you that day. I guess it’s okay when adults do it.
The same guidance counselor that made you feel self-conscious also made you feel so powerful. “She’s got fire, that one”, she said to my mom one day with a smile. The fire is still there. And, to my future self – never let it go out.
With love,
Isabelle
Dear younger Amelia,
As I sit down to write this letter, I am filled with so many different emotions and thoughts. I think back to our journey through life and the hardships and triumphs we had to endure to get where we are today. Honestly, Amelia, I think the journey we went through was the best one we could have endured. We turned into a driven student, athlete, and leader in many organizations. Honestly, I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know what changed in our younger selves to push us and make us more driven and determined to do better, but whatever it was I wouldn’t change that at all.
Honestly, Amelia, I miss you. I miss being you, young and carefree. I miss playing in the yard with Aaron and Ian and Jude and just not having a care in the world. I miss running around our properties, playing nerf gun wars, hide and seek, capture the flag and more. I honestly sit here and look back and can’t remember the last time we went out in the yard to play and use our imaginations. I miss being a kid.
Amelia, it would be stupid of me to not give you some advice while I’m sitting here writing a letter to you. For starters, live life to the fullest and enjoy being the carefree child that you are, it will all go away soon. Don’t change your personality to match those around you, later in life people will begin to see you and love you for who YOU are. Work hard throughout your life and start to fight to earn what you want. It can’t just get handed to you, you need to work for it. Fight for your dreams as well, and work hard at lacrosse. That sport will bring you so much joy in the future, so make sure you get to continue playing in high school and college. And finally, surround yourself with people who make you happy and who care about you. Don’t try to fit in and don’t be bothered if those around you hate on you for being different. You are who you are and no one can change that.
In the years to come, you will embark on a remarkable journey filled with love, laughter, and countless adventures. Embrace each moment with an open heart and a curious mind, for life is a wondrous gift waiting to be unwrapped.
Know who you are Amelia, and follow your path and yours alone.
With all my love,
Older Amelia
Dear Gracie,
Hi, little one! <3 Take a big breath, and don’t worry, sweet. I promise I won’t tell you anything you don’t already know. Knowing you, I imagine you’re startled to get a letter from your future self. I was a little startled to send it at first, but I’m not anymore; I won’t tell you anything that alters the course of things.
I won’t tell you anything that alters the timeline, not because everything happens like it should. In fact, things shatter. You might know already. You might already be feeling that start to happen inside. I won’t even say that I want you to go through it, be better for it. I don’t, honey. I really don’t.
In fact, there are so many things I choose not to say that would alter the course. There are places I could tell you to steer clear of, mindsets to adopt or dispell. I want to tell you so badly it hurts my throat. I well up, thinking of you, but don’t be afraid, kiddo! The same number of terrible things and amazing ones are ahead, and for the worst of it, you’re strong as hell. I just want to explain to you, too, that you are loved. What I mean is, I well up, thinking about how miraculously soft you are. You sing 60’s motown and dream about cooking with your future wife in matching pink-checkered aprons, tying the strings together playfully. Every righteous thought in your loving little head is so genuine, and I know you don’t want to hurt anybody. You see bullies and you seek out their victims to make friends. You might feel like you’re too much, but you and I both know you’re spreading a light as best you can, and what you do is for good. Mistakes are made every now and then, and that’s okay.
Sadly, you won’t always be like this. You will be able to watch violent tv shows. You’ll bask in an icy castle you’ll build for yourself. You’ll snicker looking at your own blue wrists, point them out in humor to a friend you’re sure will leave you eventually, and you’ll tell them to their face you don’t need them or anyone else. (They’ll come back.) You’re ridiculous for a period of time when you’re twenty one. I want to save you from it all, from everything that made you hurt that way, but here’s the truth.
How you get here doesn’t matter. If you experience it once in your life, your life is worth living, and what’s more, I know you’ve already felt it: that understanding words don’t do much justice to, of equal love. You’re shedding the burdens of hierarchy and judgment, knowing everyone around you is also you. You might even learn someday that nature is a part of this, too. That soft feeling inside – that wants to live and help others live – that little something who’s only aware, who only loves to be, to resonate the cosmos, who witnesses this mind and body with compassion and wonder, is ‘all’ that matters. “All” as in all. Not “all” as in ‘the only thing.’ She is everything, everyone.
I don’t know how I still believe it, Gracie. To be honest, optimism in me has perished again recently. I’m not writing to you from the end of your story. You’re stuck with the changing weather, like the rest of us, and you’re stuck with the second chapter of me, not chapter ten or twenty. I’m not writing to you from your Disney ending. I still have things to say though, if you’ll hear me, little one.
I know you’re already so scared of it happening, but you can wipe those tears away, love of my life. Guess what? I won’t keep that secret from you. You should know, you made it through. You didn’t take your life, and you won’t. At least a few times, I have to tell you that you lived. I can’t refrain from assuring you. I just can’t.
There’ll come a period in time when you’ll wonder each day, when that ice around your heart finally melts, if it will still be intact, or if it’ll be an altered organ, made up of different compounds, unable to beat to the same rhythm it did before.
I know the answer, but that is the one I can’t tell you. You’ll understand eventually, but it isn’t a simple yes or no.
Your body, and your art piece of a mind, is going to be weathered, sweetheart. But, despise how strange that feels, you have to remember that your soul is untouchable. No matter how that body grows, how many neuronal axons link…how much you store, or how big your house grows, you stay a child in the purest ways one can describe a child; you are a small piece of the universe who only wants to love.
So, I guess I didn’t really need that time machine to send this to you. I’m writing to you now, who is still here with me. Maybe you read it a long time ago, through the love I sent to the past. Maybe I just remembered what I wrote, what I read. I know you knew it then, and you still know it now. Please always accept this artistic form of my company.
I can see you through the sands of time
The transparency of glass says we’re anigh
But parting us are seasons of blooming prudence
Which, I know , to reach here, I’ve crossed by.
Carefree eyes, blithe moves and cheery talks
Merry insouciance is, what in you, I see
But shadows of fresh agonies make it hard
To believe you’re none but the younger me!!
These separating years , to say,
Are deep flowing waters joining end- to- end
And hence, on each wave, writing
Lessons of ‘new’ years, to you, dear “me”, I send.
On the first wave of the salt- chuck waters,
I carve the agony of a dainty, craving heart…
-A weary little chunk of flesh and blood,
Tired hunting solace of love- “an extinct art”
Dear “me”, I remember how badly you wanted
A world for your own single soul
But now, when I “breathe” in it, I tell you…
The forlorn appetite craves togetherness in an empty bowl!
There are no hands of friendship now, no cradles of motherhood
No shoulder to lead grief to dismiss
Every little word of comfort is now what
Your “grown-up” self really tends to miss
The next wave dear “me” is an acknowledgement
To your adored yet, transient freedom
The boundless fields of purview that you see
Are none but trinkets in your own little kingdom!!
‘Coz when you deem your own “precious” self,
what counts are cloudy opportunities hovering,
but when the “eyes around” deem your “older” self
What counts is the length of her “robes” covering;
The tunnels of time have been so partial
Now I don’t chirp, I don’t cheer,
But you must live your blithe and merry sounds
Killing within the slightest fear.
The next wave, oh dear! Brings to you
Essence of gloom that fondly dwells with me,
Startled at the sudden loss of bliss,
My delicate and weary spirit yells with me!
I see you, and so I know, I had my own
Jocund company at all hours of the day,
But now, dreadful silence and nasty nightmares
Are all whom I can even ask to stay…
Dear younger me, you’ll see many stages in life…
But at this “merry hour”, to you, I do insist
Slurp the very essence of bliss around you
‘Coz it’s you who lives, I simple “exist”
Though i have more” stories” to hold
You and me are still the very same “shelf”
Through these gliding waves and tides…
I send this letter to you- my adorable “younger self
I send this letter to you my adorable “younger self”!!!