Dear Me,

Well, guess what? You’re an artist now. Who knew you had it in you? That part of yourself you envied in others and buried has finally come to light. All the while, you don’t loathe yourself as much as you used to. We’re still a work in progress, always will be, I suppose. But we like it that way. Life around us is always changing. It’s only fitting we do the same.

On another note, you’ve found the love of your life. I know you wondered and waited for him. But he was worth the wait, as were you to him. His love and loyalty have pushed you far beyond what you thought possible. His strength is there on days where you believe you have none. He sees infinite possibilities in you and that encouragement was all you needed to take a leap of faith for yourself. The moments of pure joy you experience together are worth more than any wealth found in this lifetime. He was worth the wait.

Life has brought us many challenges, as one might expect. You have greeted each of them with acceptance and you’re much more resilient than you know. All the self-criticism you hold on to so dearly doesn’t compare to the strength you receive from love. It’s okay to let it all go. Believe it or not, but you create all the doubt and fear you feel. It’s the greatest gift of all – energy. Once we learned to embrace these feelings as a friend, rather than an enemy, you could recognize your own strength and power.

We’re here to remind others of all that is good and beautiful in this world and you excel at it. Your creativity is a gift you will share with the world. One day, crochet will open the door again to the creative spark within you and you’ll follow your own yellow brick road. You never know where it’ll take you, but you can’t wait to find out. And I can honestly say I’m proud of you for not giving up. The world needs you and I. Let’s hug it out. I love you.

Much love,
Kelly Anne

Style Score: 100%

Dear Little Rob,
You won’t believe who this is from.
Actually-you probably will.
You’ve always known time doesn’t follow the rules the way people pretend it does.
It’s me.
You.
Just a little further down the road.
I’m not here to give you advice, or hand over cheat codes.
There are no shortcuts in life. You don’t get to skip the hard parts.
You’re going to walk through some heavy things-
moments that won’t make sense for a long time,
moments that feel like they’re breaking you.
Like the fire is too much.
But it’s not burning you.
It’s forging you.
Shaping you into someone stronger than you ever imagined.
In ways you won’t understand.
Pain will be a brutal but effective teacher.
And laughter?
Laughter will be your best defense, your pressure valve, and sometimes your battle cry and the thing that dulls life’s worst lectures.
Your mistakes? The failures that sting and echo?
They matter.
Every heartbreak, wrong turn, and doubt-filled night-
they’re not detours from the path.
They are the path.
You’ll feel lost sometimes.
Alone.
You’ll carry things that were never yours to hold.
And just when you’re certain you can’t carry another ounce,
life will hand you more-
and somehow, you’ll keep going.
There’s a deeper strength in you than you know.
That doesn’t go away.
You’ll forget it sometimes,
but it never forgets you.
One day, you’ll wonder why I didn’t warn you.
But when you look back, you’ll understand:
the voice, the resilience, the grit-
they couldn’t be given to you.
They had to be earned.
People will hurt you.
Some by accident.
Some on purpose.
But a rare few-
the real ones-
will love you with a kind of quiet, steady depth you won’t think you deserve.
You do.
Let them.
Don’t shut yourself off although it seems safer to go it alone.
Keep your heart open-
just install better locks and learn where to draw the lines.
You won’t become who you expected.
You’ll become someone better.
A little banged up. A little wiser.
Definitely funnier.
There’s a kind of humor that only comes from surviving what tried to undo you-
from standing in the wreckage, and thinking of a joke.
Please-stay weird.
Stay wild-hearted.
That strange spark in you?
That’s not a flaw.
That’s your gift.
Don’t bury it to make others comfortable.
The world doesn’t need perfect.
It needs authenticity
It needs you.
You won’t land where you planned.
You’ll land somewhere better.
Not easier. Not cleaner.
But more grounded.
A clearer perspective than most.
So no spoilers, kid. Just this:
It turns out okay.
Actually-on most days, it turns out beautiful.
I love you.
I’m proud of you.
Keep going.
Big Rob

(Style Score 100%)

How are you doing? I love being able to check in with you. I know this might sound dramatic or silly but make sure you keep doing things that make you happy and never be scared to talk to me. I’d never steer you wrong, atleast not intentionally.

I love the light in your eyes, so make sure to never lose that. Life will eventually throw some hectic things your way, but if you remember who you are and how to stay grounded, you will always be ok. Life is meant to be lived. Enjoy every moment you can. Be confident, because you are Angelically beautiful and protected inside and out and nobody or nothing can ever take that from you.

Love Always,
Older you

Dear past me,

I’m glad you didn’t take those pills that day in 12th grade.
I’m glad you stayed to finish that final exam, and that you went home, even though it felt like there was only chaos, and no one truly waiting for you there. I’m proud of how you carried that quiet loneliness, moving from one painful situation to another, and still held on.

I’m glad you stayed long enough to graduate one day.
I’m glad you kept whispering those prayers: “If I make it out of this childhood, please let me have a happy adult life.”
I’m glad the absence of support from your parents or any adult didn’t stop you.
I’m so proud you found the strength to work four jobs, to fund your education and survival all by yourself.
I’m glad you stood alone at graduation, and that you didn’t let that emptiness steal your moment.

I’m especially glad you didn’t numb yourself.
No pills. No shortcuts. No narcotics.
Even when you wanted to disappear, you didn’t.
Even when the path felt unbearable, you kept walking it.

You never followed the easy way out.
You didn’t settle for love that only offered comfort.
You waited for better.
Without proof, without promise, you believed something good would come.
And somehow, it did.

I’m glad you started reading books at six years old.
I’m glad you discovered there were other worlds, other ways to live.
Books became your window and your proof: life could be different.
And one day, you’d make sure of it.

And I’m so glad that seeing the tragedies you did, things no child should have to see, didn’t break you.
You let it shape you, not stop you.
You kept going.
And now, you choose yourself. Every time.
I am so proud of you for that.

Thank you for holding on, for pushing through, for not giving up on me.

Because of you, I now live a life that once felt impossible.
A beautiful life.
A dream career that combines your love for travel with the power to motivate others, just like the books that once saved you.
You’ve visited the places you used to only read about. You’ve become the light you were always looking for.

There’s no more silence, no more aching loneliness.
You found community.
You found people who love you like family, who guide you, who celebrate you.
You found peace.
You found love.
You made it.

And best of all, your prayers were heard.
Your adult life is full of joy.

So thank you.
For the sleepless nights, for the faith, for the fight.
I’m so glad you exist.
And I’m endlessly proud of you.

With love,

from Me.

Style Score: 94%

Dear New Version,
You are someone I would have liked to have had as a friend and mentor in my life. Your life is so rich with stories and experiences that I can’t even imagine. And you’ve created a sanctuary of peace and beauty within yourself and in your own little world that I’ve yet to experience. I’m so glad to see that the feelings and inklings I’ve had about my true nature have come to fruition, and you are developing those talents in ways the world has never seen. I’m glad that you are releasing the old stories and creating new ones filled with beauty, hope and magic.
I see how other people feel in your presence, and I really admire that. They feel seen, heard, and safe in your presence. I don’t have that yet in my life and I can’t tell you how much that makes a difference. How do I know people feel seen and safe in your presence? You notice things others don’t. And you appreciate a lot of those things and voice your appreciation without hesitation. I wish I was on the receiving end of one of your compliments. But I also know the compliments others have given you that still resound in your heart. I am amazed that someone has called you a bright light. You received that compliment some time ago, but from my vantage point, that light has become even more magnificent.
You’ve also learned to temper your anger when somebody has evoked your ire. The fire burns inside you and I am in awe of how you don’t let it consume you, but let the flames flicker until they cool before you express yourself. I haven’t learned to do that yet. You’ve released a lot of anger that I unknowingly allow to drive me. I wield my words unknowingly like swords and often unintentionally hurt people, and suffer the backlash. I see how you still get straight to the heart of things; but you have learned to use your voice in a way I haven’t yet.
You still have the swords at your side to wield as well as your shield when you need them though. The boundaries you’ve established mean you don’t have to use them so often anymore because you’ve learned to keep yourself safe while remaining connected to people you value. You are no longer willing to accept things that I still tolerate. I don’t yet realize that I’m worth more than that. You are learning to value yourself more. I see that you still beat yourself up, but you are learning to slow down, to take care of yourself more, and to provide yourself with the love you’ve always been seeking. I see how that self-love and self-mastery make you a giant. I bow at your feet.
I am in awe of the pain you’ve endured and how, instead of letting it warp or destroy you, you’ve walked through the fire and come out the other side transformed by it. You learned to lean into it and I am amazed by how you let it soften you and somehow you are stronger for it. I see how you are listening to your heart now and you discovered wings that I never would have guessed were there. I never dreamt that I could fly and I love seeing you testing your wings and taking flight. I cannot wait to see what adventures await you once you let the wind carry you!
I see how you are slowly letting your inner softness reveal itself on the outside more and more. I see you taking off your armor and learning to surrender to ease and flow. I see there is still that girl who is a warrior and doesn’t hesitate to fight battles, but I see you winning more hearts and not needing to fight as many battles. When you fight battles, you are no longer alone. I see you move through the world in power and unaware of your beauty. It is astonishing. Truly. You don’t see it, but others also watch you in awe.
I see that you still suffer from some wounds that are fresh for me. Thank you for working on healing them. They weigh heavily on me now and I can see that you are releasing the pain to open up new possibilities that neither of us can imagine. I look at you and I’m hopeful for the future.
I love you. You are everything and more that I never knew I could be.
Yours,
Annette

Prowriting Aid Style Score: 100

To my future self,
There you are. I see you. I’m genuinely amazed at how much you’ve achieved.
I’m the version of you that existed before everything changed. Before the heartbreak. Before the trauma. Before, you had to learn to breathe again through shattered lungs. I’m the you who used to numb everything just to make it through the day. The girl, who carried years of pain, pretended she was fine, when inside, she was screaming. You weren’t broken—you were surviving. You turned to drugs not because you were weak, but because you didn’t know how else to silence the pain that never seemed to end.
You were just trying to escape the weight. The memories. The guilt. The feeling of never being enough. The aching loneliness, even in a crowded room. I remember how you hated yourself for using, hated how it stole your spirit—but you didn’t know how else to function. You just wanted peace, even if it came at a cost.
And then… he came into your life. That man. That love. You didn’t expect someone to love you with a past like yours. But he did. He saw through the pain. He never judged you—he embraced every flaw, every scar. For once, you felt chosen. Worthy. Loved.
He didn’t just love you—he loved your kids. He became the father Adalynn had always prayed for. Their bond was so pure, so rare, so real. You watched her light up when he walked into the room, and you saw how her heart finally settled. He gave her something you couldn’t give on your own: a feeling of being fully protected. And Egypt—sweet, little Egypt—followed him everywhere, soaking up every second of his love. She adored him.
 Then that night came. July 15th.
The night that split your life into “before” and “after.” When he took his life in front of you, something inside you shattered. That moment is carved into your bones. You heard your own scream echo through the silence. You felt your knees hit the ground. You felt the air leave your lungs. That image—his final moment—haunts you. And in that moment, the old version of you wanted to die, too. To crawl back into the numbness. To disappear.
But you didn’t. You stayed.
You stayed for Adalynn and Egypt, even when getting out of bed felt impossible. You stayed through the panic attacks, through the flashbacks, through the nightmares. You stayed through the birthdays and holidays he missed. You held your babies while they cried for a father who wasn’t coming back, all while carrying your own unbearable grief.
You didn’t relapse. You wanted to. God, you wanted to. But you didn’t. You chose to heal. You chose therapy. You chose recovery. You chose you.
The Army and his trauma, the toxic beliefs he carried about manhood and weakness—they stole him from you. He thought asking for help made him less of a man. But it didn’t. It would’ve made him human. You would’ve carried that weight with him. You wanted to. But now, you carry it alone.
And yet here you are. Standing. Breathing. Living.
You are not the girl I used to be. You are stronger. You are raw and real and full of fire. You’ve turned your pain into power, your scars into stories. You are a mother who fights through the darkest grief and still finds ways to love deeper, harder, fuller.
I am in awe of you.
Keep going. You are becoming everything we always hoped we could be.
With all my heart, 
The Woman You Used to Be

Stylist score 80

I’m sorry I never showed you the love I gave for free to others.
I never made time for you, even when I knew you were hurting.
I’m sorry I didn’t respect you enough stand up for you.
I didn’t tell you, YOU were beautiful.
I’m sorry I let you believe that you weren’t enough.
I’m sorry I broke your heart everyday leaving scars so deep they’ll be with you forever…
I’m sorry I never fully trusted you..
I told you ,you weren’t smart ,You were ugly, fat and no one wanted you.
..and believe it.
I’m sorry I convinced you the world was against you and you were alone.
I never protected you ,when I guarded others SO fiercely. ..
I lost you in seeking love and approval in someone else.
I was the one that left you behind….
I’m sorry

Young Liz,

It’s just after midnight on our 36th birthday. I am in my now quiet living room, cleaning up the remnants of the daily chaos. Children’s toys are scattered throughout the room, art supplies are covering the table, and crumbs litter the floor. As I clean, I think of my life, and how it’s sped by. I will not lie; mid-life has snuck up on me faster than you or I ever expected it to and 40 is approaching fast. I feel like I went from a twenty-five-year-old new mom to a thirty-six-year-old mom of four in the blink of an eye. Surprise! Even though children are not in your plan right now, you end up being a mother of four children. I must tell you, it’s been the best part of your life, and you love being a mom. Anyway, the last decade has been amazing, but it feels like I lived it in fast forward.

I don’t know where the time has gone. My oldest and only son is 11 years old; growing up and acting more like a teen than a child. My second child and oldest of my 3 daughters is 8 years old and not far behind her brother. My third child, who was the baby, is already 3 years old and can argue in full sentences. My youngest has outgrown her newborn clothes and turns two months old soon. I can see myself aging when I look in the mirror, noticing gray hairs and wrinkles more often than I used to. I’m not sure if you found that first gray hair yet, but if it has not surfaced already, it will soon. I’m sorry to break that news to you.

The realization that I am 36 years old already and I have not had success in anything except maybe being a hot mess soccer mom. Yes, you are a soccer mom; a fun, happy, Suburban driving, hot mess, soccer mom. I love being a mom and would not trade it for anything, but I realize at this point in your life; you are planning on accomplishing more and having a career. You may feel disappointed that your life turns out differently from your plan, but trust it turns out the way it was supposed to. Reflecting on the past, present and future makes me think about my life, my regrets, and accomplishments. With all these thoughts and memories swirling around in my head, I am overwhelmed with emotions. Even though I feel some regret and disappointment about never having a career or being accomplished at anything society would value, I feel even more happiness and pride about being a mom.

Being a mom is difficult and undervalued so much we believe our purpose to be meaningless. Despite this feeling that my role holds little value, I know being a mom is very meaningful. I am raising four amazing kids that will be part of the future generation. How well I do my job will reflect on the people they become and how successful they will be. So far, I have been successful at raising happy, caring, smart kids. They are doing more than I ever had. My oldest child, a 5th grader, excels in soccer, academics, and maintaining friendships since preschool. My oldest daughter is caring, popular, excelling at both soccer and tumbling, and gifted in writing; she even won first place in a county-wide writing contest. My third child is a very determined, smart, and well speaking 3-year-old who already does tumbling and is starting soccer soon. I know my youngest, despite only being months old, will be just like her siblings. My kids are successful because I pour everything I have into them and their success.

 I encourage them to play sports and join clubs; take them to every practice, game, recital, and everything in between. From the sidelines, I always cheer them on. I celebrate all their wins, and comfort them after losses. I help them study and make sure they do their homework. To ensure they make friends, I take them to all the birthday parties and playdates. I do everything I can to ensure they have the best childhood I can give them. I spend most of my time with them, running them to the tumbling studio, the soccer fields, school, and playdates, and I love all of it. Raising them has given me more purpose and happiness than anything else ever has. I want them to be happy children and successful adults, so I have dedicated myself to raising them to be everything I never was. Because of all this, I should be proud of the mother I am, and you should be proud of the mother you will be.

Love,

Older Liz

Style Score
100%

Do you still want to be married to me, or was I more of a maid of honor? When the officiant said I do, I thought I was tying the knot with someone that wanted the same thing. Lately I’ve felt a disconnect between us. I want to lie and say I don’t know why, but I do. As I keep trying to pull you back in, I’m realizing you don’t want the same things anymore. You’ve seemed to outgrow me in ways I just can’t keep up. We need to divorce. It’s time to let go. You’re so beautiful and I’m grateful to have had the chance to experience the old you. You don’t need my validation anymore. I remember when the words to have and to hold were said. You can hold on your own. We got too comfortable. I’ll miss holding the old you in our bed. You’ve opened a new door with someone who can love you better. I remember they said your momma was too pretty to be your momma. So you attract the baddest of the baddest as if you’re casting for the main role. Dizzy spells spelt all over the floor because you no longer internalize every single thing anymore. Now you’re racing circles around everyone, causing vertigo. Don’t worry, I’ve gotten the hint it’s also my time to go.

100% Style Score

Hi Silver Fox,

I just want to say Happy 80th birthday! I hope you had a great, fun-filled birthday because eighty years of life deserves to be celebrated.

You do not know me yet, but allow me to introduce myself, I am you at the age of 70. I, too, have just celebrated a birthday, and I am feeling kind of special even after becoming a widow after over 42 years of marriage. Due to all the deaths, we have experienced together in our lives, I can honestly say, I did not think we would have made it to eighty. I realized on our birthday that if I want to actually meet you in 10 years, I needed to get to work and start changing a few things. Today I have promised to make us a priority. All of our lives, we have given our life away! Let’s take the remaining years for ourselves! This cannot be viewed as selfish, you agree? Even writing this letter to you, it triggers a sense of strange relief.

My goals and wishes for us is that we have good health, travel, and independence. I wish that we have the ability to do whatever we are big enough to do! I choose life and living for us.

Let’s get started on our grocery list of changes and the things we need to overcome and take a short trip down memory lane.

We have survived the death of all our family members mother, father, brother and two sisters. First there were six and now there is one. Our sisters had children in which we tried to fill the auntie role and provided a safety net for their pain and shortcomings. Although some situations our nieces and nephew created themselves through poor choices while some situations were thrusted on them due to the absence of their mothers and life experiences , all while married and trying to raise our daughter. I often wonder why God allowed us to be the mother of so many. It is my prayer that when I catch up to you, we will look back over our life and the answer will become clearer.

These are the changes I need to make to improve our quality of life: I pledge to you to become more active and exercise at least three times a week. I also will watch my diet and maintain a healthy weight. Another goal is to reduce or eliminate the medications I currently take. It will probably take most of the ten years to achieve these things, but we can do it.

I hope that your expectation of me is to do all the things that allow you to be the best version of yourself.

Praying that God will continue to keep us with good health, sound mind, and the financial ability to do whatever we want. Silver Fox, stay strong and sassy! Catch up to you later.

Style score -85%

Young Man, 

Start the kettle and sit to listen. Paper and pen, please. We don’t have much time. 

You are fourteen now. Congratulations—keep reading. I’ll give you what you need to fly.

At fourteen, it feels like you’re the only stinky thing on the planet. Don’t count on it. The sad fact is: the body is a wet, hairy, doubting vessel that also stinks. That’s true for everyone, including your family and every stranger you stare at. Be courteous with your smell, but never ashamed of it. 

At fourteen, you are surrounded by family, teachers, and mother’s friends. There will develop within you an unshakable urge to delight, impress, and please every one of these people. It’s an impossible effort; give up now. It will be hard to undo the damage done to you, child who puts on adultskin to entertain cocktail guests. It will take a lot of love to tame that performing monkey in you. 

For now, you’re fourteen. Let me see you. Do a spin. 

Brace yourself. Adults have given you all the advice that they’ve got to offer, and it’s about to become apparent. Be suspicious of unprovoked information. Be suspicious of people. I was loose with identity, I slung and shared it. Tighten up. Doubt and argue. Make your own opinions first and loud, otherwise you’ll soak up the traits of unhappy people. 

You are unsupervised by your family. This feels awesome. It feels like a mutual maturity and trust; it’s not. You are a child, meant to be watched. They are your parent, meant to be encouraging you. Something is missing here and it is not your fault.

When your family doesn’t encourage you, you’ll bury yourself into the internet. That’s fine. Try to stay off 8ball.net. Otherwise, explore. Research. You will learn about prejudice and greed and how they are wrong. You will also learn that they are prevalent and inescapable. 

You’ll spend much of your life ashamed, uncomfortable in your humanity. Other, cool-looking kids will say they feel the same as you. Don’t trust them. No one feels the same as you in this town. Their shame is a trap to catch you in. Their shame is the force that drives you to delight, impress, and please. Their shame is a bucket of holes, never satisfied. There are people out there who do not seek misery to beautify themselves. You’ve got to put your hand out. Interrupt and discover. 

Cut your hair. Go outside. Don’t smoke. Talk to somebody. Keep writing. Keep painting. Keep singing. You will make money for the first time and it will dazzle you. Do not spend your earnings on necessities your parents should be giving you— the money will disappear. Ask for help. Ask for food. Ask for what you want. If you don’t ask for what you want in the moment, it will be forgotten, and you’ll lose yourself in pieces. You will lose the thought of wanting. It will become peripheral and, over time, erode into nothing. It’s easy to live with unhappy people when you want nothing.

Makes it hard to live with happy people when you find them, though. 

By now, you have given up on the idea of living independently. Your mother told you she’d love you to stay with her forever. Beware. After one year, she will start to sour. The welcome runs out. This is not your fault. Unhappy people never say what they mean. She is not a happying person. Put no more of yourself into that bucket. 

At fourteen, you’re unmedicated. I remember the mindset. Frustration, mostly, needing a supplement to feel normal. Yeah, yeah. Everyone is “on” medication. It isn’t unnecessary, it isn’t unfair. You feel that way because you are depressed and unmedicated. Happify yourself. No one else will do it for you. Life is a constant metronome between discomfort and relief.

What else, what else?

A smoothie is not dinner. You do not need to sneak food. You do not need to place the cans exactly back where they were. Your family are unhappy in themselves, and are typically expected to hide that from you. You’ve got your own unhappinesses to figure out. 

Your heart will ache randomly; that is empathy. Keep it around.

I look at pictures of you often and remember living inside your head. You should have had people to watch you, help you to make sense of things. But they didn’t, so it’s got to be me.

Follow these rules and you will make it out. Somebody special will find you, she’ll smooth out any of the wrinkles and bruises you’ve gathered along the way. You’ll know when you see her. You’ll be loved as you were meant to be loved. You will be happified. 

Keep going, 

Old Man

I remember you like a bad dream. I know I can never completely get rid of you, no matter how much I’ve regretted you and wished you away. Of all the pieces to my puzzle, you are the ugliest one. But I have realized that no matter how much I hate the past, it doesn’t change. There is no amount of regret or shame that can will you out of existence. You will forever be a part of me. I am learning how to be grateful for you; how to forgive you. I know that if not for you, I would not be who I am today.

What you allow time and experience to teach you will lead you to a new life, a new version of you. A couple of years down the road from the hole you live in now, you will experience a loss and a life-change that will shake you to your core. Your life will reach a boiling point, and something will force your awakening. You will come to realize your strength, your capability, and your worth, but not without suffering. Suffering will be your greatest teacher.

It’s hard to look back on who I was; who you are. A young girl so desperate for direction and love that she would do anything she could to have it, even if it was just an illusion. A girl so desperate for the approval of others, that you have not bothered to look inward for the love you can offer yourself. A girl so stuck in her own victimhood that you are blind to all the power you hold. Yet, this version of me that you are will take me exactly where I need to go.

A harsh and beautiful realization you will come to is that no one cares and nothing matters. No one is coming to save you. No one is coming to teach you how to live and there will never be a guidebook to life handed to you. It’s all on you, and hey, if you mess up, no one will care that much about it in the long run. The most important thing is that you are true to yourself; that your life is wholeheartedly yours. With all the mistakes, failures, and lessons, this story is yours to tell.

When I tell my story now, I look back on you and hold space to love you just as you are. While I have spent time wishing you never existed, I know you are as crucial a part as any to my unfolding story. I will love you hard enough for the both of us. I look forward to the next version of myself, the one who will look back on the me I am today and carry me with her. She will carry both of us with her, and she will love and forgive the both of us. It is in this evolution that we will be able to reach our highest potential, and all the versions of us will rest in harmony with each other.

Style Score: 69%

Dear me,
I am now just about forty years old and I have grown in so many ways. I want you to know, none of it was ever your fault. Mommy being suicidal and addicted to drugs, the abuse we tolerated from her, it wasn’t ever your fault. By the way, she finally got clean but then turned to alcohol and the antidepressants made her more suicidal, but she made her amends and we were able to form some sort of mother-daughter relationship, unfortunately she passed away during covid. She apologized for not helping us when we were her boyfriend’s victim,didn’t make it right though, but at least she apologized. We are now seeing a counselor for all the childhood trauma; we’re learning how to cope and understand that none of the abuse was ever really our fault. Oh, we’re married and we have 2 sons. There were a couple of really rough relationships, but we learned to actually love and to let love in. We are no longer hiding behind a false smile; we wear an actual smile now. Abuse comes in all shapes and sizes and we have seen it all, but, us, the victim, have become the victorious. After what felt like a life of suffering, we grew, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. We learned to walk away from toxic relationships, even within the family; we learned to heal and let love in, and we learned to speak up and stick up against those who hurt us. So much has happened in our 40 years of existence, but we made it when we didn’t think we would. You would be so glad to know we chose to live, I know I am. Today we support those who were in our position-those who suffer abuse, neglect, the children who feel like life is just too much and they want an escape, I decided to live and I am so thankful for the people in our life who saved me. I no longer feel unsafe and afraid. We accomplished growing up; we got out of the dark and finally found the light. There was a time where I wanted to give it all up; that time kept occurring through the years; 12 years old, 15 years old, 16 years old, 20 years old, 28 years old, and then 32 years old, but no more. God blessed us with a person who held us so tight that all our broken pieces came together; there are still some pieces that need mending, but we’re learning how to heal. There are 2 adorable boys who call us mommy and it’s our job to never let them see the trauma we experienced. Today, I am alive and well. Today, I choose to live. I choose to leave the past in the past to look forward to a brighter future. We learned to smile and mean it,no more darkness.
Love,
Me
Style Score 86%

I am sitting on a balcony in a country that is not my own. The sun is relentless, the pavement below warps slightly in the heat, but I can smell rain in the distance. It will arrive without warning. In the city I come from, I could always sense a storm before it broke. But here, things work differently. The rain arrives, mid-thought, mid-step, and if you’re not prepared, you get drenched.
I find myself writing a letter to myself, to the past. I want to tell you: learn to expect the storm, even on the sunniest day. Everything can turn in an hour. Years may pass slowly, but then comes the moment that demands a decision — urgent, irreversible. And sometimes, you won’t have a choice. In those moments, all you can do is try not to get soaked. Don’t blame yourself — survival is the best you can do. Wait for the moment when you can act.
Life is like a video game. You earn points, skills, and tokens. The more you gather, the more equipped you are for the unexpected. You never know what you’ll need, so gather as much as you can. Don’t waste time. Time is your most valuable currency. Understand this: in games, someone else might buy all the rare artifacts. In real life, others may seem to jump ahead — privileges inherited, advantages bought — while you grind away. So you learn to be clever. You learn to be efficient.
Create an image of yourself as the smart one — let it work in your favor. You might never become a walking Wikipedia or the Encyclopaedia Britannica. Don’t aim to win the Olympics on day one. Don’t chase grandeur on day one. Be patient. Trying too hard, too soon, will only disappoint you. Instead, be the smartest person in the room. Let others come to you for clarity, for insight. Reputation, like moss, grows slowly — but it spreads.
In the medieval imagination, kings were not just men; they were names, stories, legacies. Kings earned nicknames that history remembered. Louis the Universal Spider. Charles the Great. Ethelred the Unready. Edward the Miserable. Their nicknames stuck, not because they chose them, but because the world did. But you, you have the chance to choose your own. Decide who you want to be known as, and then earn it. Start with your circle. Let the name move outward. And if you call yourself a lion, then live like one.
Yesterday, I bought a retro Casio watch. The same model I once purchased with my first paycheck, back when I was sixteen. Some things don’t lose value over time. The truly valuable things — things-the ones that last—are few and recognizable, once you’ve learned how to see them. They are your parents. The friends who knew you before you knew yourself. They will be there, even when you’re wrong, long after the newer ones have wandered off.
That said, constancy doesn’t mean resisting change. I listen to the same songs on cassette tapes and on Spotify. I am not going to sleep through the artificial intelligence boom. The next decade is being written now. Keep your eyes open and be part of the innovation.
Yes, you’ll need money. Earn it. But ask yourself, is this job feeding your future? Or are you trading hours for dollars with nothing left for your own story?
Also: rest. Enjoy yourself. That’s why you’re here, on this planet. No one rewards the person who frowned the longest.
Wine and beer? They can be allies. They can spark ideas, unlock conversations, bring strangers into your orbit. But be warned — they can just burn everything down in one night. Use them, but they are unreliable allies.
And sometimes, do absolutely nothing. Leave space to daydream — the wild kind that borders on absurdity. If it doesn’t feel like a risk, it’s not a dream — it’s a plan. Plans need steps. Dreams need courage. Dream big enough to change the world. Or at least your life, and the lives of your friends.
While writing this, the rain finally arrived. A full, unapologetic downpour. And I smile, not because I asked for it, but because it came anyway.

Sweet sixteen has fallen dead,
Just as I should have
When I slit my wrist,
Not to die,
Just to find some placation.
So much for that.
To the ER I went anyways.

Now my “friends” have disappeared.
It must be contagious –
This virus spreading through my soul.
My heart has surely rotted.
My mind likely insane.
No one has stepped up to help.

You say you’re forty today?
Ha!
No way you’ve made it that far!
But if it is true,
How?
Why?

I beg of you…
Give me a reason
To keep on living
Through this agonizing pain.
I feel like I’m drowning
In a lake of fire,
As they all laugh around me.

Why was I born
Into this decrepit world
With only a strong will
To see it,
While all else pollutes it?

I am only one.
And I am small,
Broken,
Old before conceived,
Tired and weary.
What can I possibly give
That’s worthwhile?

I beg of you –
Ancient me,
Give me one reason
To keep on living.
For this world is not
Suited for me.
I have been shunned.
I have been mocked.
Worst of all –
I am invisible.

Style Score: 100%

Before you say hello to the new version of you, you have to say goodbye to the old. Keep moving, don’t stop even when the basketball stops dribbling. Keep moving, don’t stop even when your friends stop walking. Keep moving, don’t stop even when your phone stops ringing. Keep moving, don’t stop even when your heart is breaking. Hello, old version of me, it’s been a while, I haven’t seen you in such a long time. It was hard to even recognize you, funny meeting you here. Now that I have you here, let’s have a chat. Lift up your head, you’ve been through a lot, trust me I know, but look at me, the NEW version of you, I am proof that you made It through. Listen, we cannot change the past, I know you want to, but our past is what shaped us to be the person I am today. Our past guided us into unknown territories that I would have never walked into by myself. Our past made us realize we had unresolved childhood trauma. Our past made us realize yes, we love church, yes it is a part of us, but we also need therapy. I know you’re in pain, I know you are suffering, but this is only going to make you stronger. The pain and loss you have suffered throughout the years, don’t discount that, and don’t take it for granted. Everything you went through, everything you are currently going through you need to go through it. This is your story, and your story is going to help so many teenagers/young adults that have experienced similar situations. You are not a mistake, you were put on this Earth to help, guide, and protect the next generation. What you’re experiencing right now is only growing pains. Before you become the person you see today, you have to heal. I was once you, I tried to sweep everything under the rug. I forgave people right away without talking about the issue. I constantly held my tongue. I helped others without a thought, and when I needed the help, those same people I helped were nowhere to be found. Before you become the person you see today, you have to get familiar with the word ‘NO.’ The word ‘NO’ will; save your life in the near future. You may be alone now, but once you’re healed, you will find your people. Listen to my words, you will have more associates than friends, but you will have a solid inner circle that you can depend on for every single thing in your life. So, stand up, say goodbye to the old version of you, and look ahead, look at the person you will become. Stop dwelling on the past, your future is bigger and brighter than you could have ever imagined. You will survive, not only will you survive you will be happy. I’ll see you soon.

Dear Me (from 4 weeks ago),

I know you’re hurting right now.

I know you feel like the rug’s been pulled out from under you, like you’re free-falling through fear and uncertainty with no idea where—or if—you’ll land.

You’re worried about money. About identity. About worth. You’re scared you’ve lost something too big to name, and maybe even more scared that no one will understand.

But take a breath, because I need to tell you something:
You’re going to be okay. Actually, you’re going to be more than okay.

In the weeks ahead, you’re going to create something that didn’t exist before. You’re going to turn a spark of an idea into something real, something beautiful, something yours. You’ll learn to design, to market, to sell, to hope. You’ll connect with people in new ways. You’ll put your heart on display—and people will see it. They’ll feel it.

You’ll spend your days fully engaged with your daughters—with your mind and heart in the same place, not torn between work emails and tea parties and feeling like you’re failing at both. You’ll bake bread, make fruit leather, start a garden, read books just because they’re fun. You’ll stretch, walk, breathe deeper than you have in years. You’ll remember what it feels like to be fully present. And when your little one looks up and says, “Mommy, I hope you never find another job,” you’ll feel both the ache and the magic of this moment—and you’ll understand why it matters.

You haven’t failed. You’ve shed a life that wasn’t sustainable, and now you’re building something that just might be. You don’t have all the answers yet, and that’s okay. The money piece will come. The clarity will come. For now, just know this:

You’re growing into someone you were always meant to be.

I am so proud of you.

With love and deep trust,
You.

Pro Writing Style Score: 100%

To My Old Self It Will Be Alright in This I Promise

To my old self it will be alright in this I promise.
The old self will one day help you to accomplish.
Trust me, some things will leave you left astonished.
It is all in good time.
There will be dark cloudy days and there will also be sunshine.
There are going to be truths and more hateful lies.
It’s important to know the difference.
Remember to always use your gifts that God has gifted.
Life isn’t always what one envisioned.
Lines ger blurred and perceptions become twisted.
To my old self take care of your mental health.
Your feelings are important, each and every one that you felt.
You’re going to want to quit, but I encourage you to never stop it!
Your future self will leave you astonished.
To my old self it will be alright in this I promise.