Dear Me,

The irony of this letter is bittersweet.

I look back on my life now and see hopefulness, a life filled with joy and contentment.

Yet at times I weep at the lack in which my present day stillness lay meek.

I have found life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness to be disgusted by the definite perplexities in which I once knew. That progressive joy does not excite me as did the seduction of my ego.

Life is a precious gift and should be cherished, yes.

But, no one speaks on the pains we are to live with as we learn to execute sanguine strikes upon this world.

You may find yourself asking:
“When do I enjoy the fruits of thine emotional labor like once before?”

And I share that, in our journey through the depths of the infernal region,

said joy just happened to be abundant. Addictive but unsustainable.

I guess what I mean to portray is that you must allow yourself to experience life’s dualities.

Never be afraid to take risks for suffering is as much of a philosopher as love.

Trust, I envy the strength in which my current sorrows will provide you.

Our armor built from compassion and brut.

So, do not forget that you are capable of achieving all of your hearts desires.

I advise you to rest and identify shame and angers scandalous affairs with Trinity, understand the importance of letting go.

The practice of this remembrance make not perfect solace but improved advancement of needed present movement.

Take time to appreciate the moments in which gratitude comes after perceived punishment. Be gracious for all that you have.

With love,