I still miss you sometimes. Maybe I miss you all the time. But, this isn’t a love letter to you. It’s a letter for me, to remind myself to keep on healing and to keep on going.
To the boy who sat next to me on that airplane, thank you for restoring my faith in men.
We need to take everyday to be kind to ourselves and to press pause on our lives for a moment.
I hope you never feel defined by your anxiety, even if you feel like it has a strong hold on you. You are bigger than it. You are stronger than it.
I am not a clean slate anymore. I am not a person without scars or bruises. But I am a person who has overcome loss and has dealt with pain without numbing cream and without a vice.
Your life can be a fairytale without that happy ending. Right now, is the time to just love yourself. And kick ass.
We expect that things will be easier than they actually are. We expect that life will work itself out. We expect that we will make the best of everything and will be strong through tough times. But sometimes, you need to break down in order for things to build back up.
You can’t be loved by everyone in this world, but if you are lucky, you will have a few great friends by your side who will let you know if you have food stuck in your teeth, or that you wore your shirt inside out.
It’s okay to not feel like an adult even if society tells you that you are one. It’s okay to wish you were still six, and not have a worry in sight.
I remember how much I loved you. And I remember how much you loved me. And I remember the love, the lust, the beginning and the end. How can you look at the memories you’ve had and loved and not feel some sort of ache in your chest? How do you read the letters from someone who once loved you and not feel your stomach drop?