Dear me,
I write this with a wish that I could go back in time and hug you. I picture your curly hair in a tangled mess, with our favorite worn-out SpongeBob shirt on. I see your big brown eyes, rosy chubby cheeks, and smile that lights up your face. Growing up, I never realized that the things I did to my body were also affecting yours. That realization will change our perspective on what we think we deserve. If I honestly believe you deserved better, I have no choice but to accept it myself.
I write this with a wish that I could go back in time and tell you not to worry. To enjoy coloring the walls until mom gets mad and yells. To jump on Dad’s back with full force. To sneak candy into the room without anyone knowing. To enjoy being blissfully ignorant because you can.
I write this with a wish that I could go back in time and wipe away your tears. I would explain how every inch of our skin will carry a story. How sometimes those stories will show through jagged scars that will eventually fade into the palest of white, and how sometimes those stories will leave temporary marks that go unnoticed. I would tell you that we can’t change our story, but we can change the way we think about it.
I write this with a wish that I could go back in time and tell you that we will turn our scars into butterflies. We will give our scars permanent wings and a beautiful meaning. I will tell you how our scars are not a sign of weakness but a testament to our strength. We’ll be compassionate, kind, patient, and thoughtful because of life. Hurtful things will happen, and we will experience pain that takes residency, but it will make us stronger and more resilient.
I write this with a wish that I could go back in time and truly make you understand that there is nothing to worry about. Life will have a funny way of working itself out. I will emphasize how funny it is because laughing will be our way of coping even in the darkest times. We’ll learn how the future isn’t as scary as we thought but rather like a present waiting to be unwrapped.
I write this with a wish that I could go back in time and admire your pureness. Others will try to take that from you, but they cannot take something that never belonged to them. Over time, we realize how our light is uncontrollably infectious and spreads so effortlessly. You will give everyone around you pieces of yourself so that wherever they go, they’ll always find little reminders of you.
I write this with the wish that I could go back in time and tell you how you will find solace through fictional stories. You will experience a thousand different lives in this lifetime. Characters will become your close friends as you immerse yourself in their adventures, providing an escape from life’s chaos.
I write this with a wish that I could go back in time and tell you how the darkness will not last. The wall we spent years building will crumble in a matter of seconds. We’ll realize that the wall had pebble-sized cracks, but life and people will shine a light so bright that every crack will flicker with brightness and warmth unimaginable. We will experience the darkness to appreciate how amazing it feels to bask in the light. In every lifetime, you chose to be here because you saw beauty awaiting.
I write this with a wish that I could go back in time and talk to you about stillness. Stillness will try to creep its way in and bring its closest friend—depression—with it. If you let it, it will linger and leave no place untouched. It’ll make you forget about the things that make you, you. It’ll leave you in a place unknown, but we will overcome it. You will remember the feel of your heartbeat, the warmth from your fingertips, the texture of your skin, the sound of your laugh, how ticklish you are, your random love for ducks, how it feels to hug someone, how loved you are by your family. The list is endless, but every detail will be cherished.
I write this with a wish that I could go back in time and ask you to make a promise. I would ask you to enjoy being a kid without worries because there will be plenty of time for that later. It would be an unbreakable promise for both of us, a pinky promise.
Sincerely, me.