To my 13-year-old self:

It was late one October evening.
I still remember the site of the blood.
And I can still feel the sting of my tears rushing down my face.

You were bullied relentlessly at school,
And your stepfather was an abusive alcoholic.
You were made fun of for your clothes,
And for your choices of friends.

Your mom would argue with your stepfather late every night.
All for the sake of being right.
You wish she would have left him and chose you instead,
It felt like nowhere was safe.

After surviving your first suicide attempt, you hoped for a better future.
You wanted to be popular and finally feel accepted.
So you changed yourself.
You changed yourself to fit their mold.

You changed your clothes, and even who you called your friends.
You started wearing makeup to feel more beautiful.
You were 13 going on 30.
And I remember their words, but they were wrong about me.

I thought changing these things about myself would make me feel beautiful.
But the truth is, the most beautiful I have ever felt was when I was thirteen.

My thirteen-year-old self was resilient and brave.
That’s what I love most about her.
After all, she is why I am here.

I remember you always wanted to be thirty.
But now that you are about to be thirty, you wish you were thirteen again.
Just know your life will be worth living, and it won’t always be this way.
Joy will accompany sadness through all of your tribulations.
You will be happy again.

Love Always,
Your 29-Year-Old Self About to Be 30