The Letter I Hope I Gave My Younger Self

Woman in bright red lipstick, a hat, and a plaid shirt smiling in a sunny field
Allef Vinicius / Unsplash

Hi, you.

I know you’re there, sitting at a coffee shop, writing a poem for him again; unmoved by external disturbances – oblivious to the fact that you’re creating a masterpiece that people will love in the future. How many poems have you written? 10? A hundred? Ah – look how love makes one a poet, I just hope your poems ever reach him. Although do not falter, trust me, this was how it all started – and soon you will know that he was never a danger, but a blessing, that even our future self will still adore; that there is a silver lining on the horizon which will soon bring forth the reason why he came for.

It was in you – that strong will to write – it was like a volcano waiting to erupt, biding its time before it finally shows the world a beautiful work that comes from destruction, chaos, and pandemonium. He was what triggered your explosion – the start of it all, and from then on, you knew what poetry means to you. How poetry acts as your shield from anyone who comes close and destroys your heart again, and how prose can engrave your words to people’s hearts and be their source of strength and inspiration.

Through time you will face obstacles – the ones that will break your very core; but through perseverance, you will overcome each and sadly, lose yourself because of it.

I saw – I felt how you tried to live as if it didn’t matter; and by ‘it’, I mean the things that shook your mind and soul. I know how others expected to see you smiling even when your heart is breaking, how you must make them happy and glad when in fact you’re the one who’s sad, and how some people took away your belief in love, hope, and trust.

Yes, honey, I know you’re scared now and yes, it will be hard, but, are you not enthralled with how I was able to write this letter to you? How was I able to explain to you in details the forthcoming trials that we have lived to endure?

It’s because you survived – we survived, and we will continue to do so.

I would love to go there at the coffee shop and disturb you from writing; perhaps your face will be stone-cold when you see an older version of you – wiser – in that matter. If I am ever given a chance to do it, I’d tell you to keep writing – that this is your cure for all the insanity and madness the world is about to give you. I would tell you that depression and anxiety are real. I would also tell you that you should not look for love in the wrong places – or just, never look for it, because it just comes at the right time. I’d also tell you that no matter what happens, never give your all to anyone – not even your friends because the world out there is indeed a scary place and people are like trains that come and go whenever they please.

I admit, from all the things that happened it’s hard to go back to how you – we – once were; but what’s the use of coming back if we can just embrace the present and get the most out of it and keep moving forward?

Self, be ready for winter. It always seems to be the longest season, but soon it will be over, and I assure you, it will be summer – the best summer your life. TC mark

Poetry. Art. Photography. Cats.

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