Dear past me, old me, whatever we want to call you. I know how lonely you feel. Trapped in this toxic relationship that has beaten you down where only her needs matter and you are worthless. Lost in where your path of life has gone or what it has become. You fog up your mind all day, every day, to run away from how you feel. You’re always searching for your next fog to creep in to disguise all of those feelings of anguish, despair, worthlessness, and loneliness. Put the lighter down. Pour that toxic waste down the drain. Leave that girl behind. I know you’re scared because you do not know who you are. I want to give you the hope you’ve been holding onto by a thread and tell you, that will change. You won’t have to down those pills to escape the control of that immature monster who you thought you could trust. I do not regret what you are doing. I do not feel guilt or shame either. What you are going through and what you are doing has made me who I am today. I miss those two boys you consider brothers, especially the nights you put the little boy to bed because he asks for you and later staying up all night playing Batman or Left4Dead on the Xbox with the older boy. I miss the fun times when you go on car rides late at night after drowning yourself in liquid poison or take those disgusting, magical mushrooms and you’re happy because of the relief of not worrying about doing or saying the wrong thing around her. And I miss the genuine people who are unfortunately under her manipulation. But it is out of my control now. I do have one wish, and I don’t think it will ever go away. I wish you would have escaped sooner. I don’t blame you, you don’t see it. But now that I have, I just wish you didn’t wait.
Love you,
me.

My style score: 100%

You’re so social they say. But little do they know my skin crawls and I feel like I’m going to ball every time I’m in front of you all. The panic and manic start to settle in , where do I even begin. I worry if I’m worthy or if they’ll all look at me and scurry. It all starts to get blurry and my mind starts to scatter like if everything I’ve accomplished never even mattered. My heart beats fast, and I can’t look past my old self I thought I laid on the shelf. But here she is, with all her might ready to fight. I’ve learned to fight back, despite the pain I feel of my old self, that was never healed which I’ve kept so concealed. She keeps me from going out and makes me miss out. Some say it’s all in my mind but I can’t seem to unbind, we’re the same person even if she was a different version. Some times I win and some times I lose, either way, my old self always seems to loom.

Style score 100%

Dear Satura,
Your name means sunshine, and that is all we’ve tried to be. I have wondered about what my place is, what meaning we have in this world. Growing up, we watched fairytale after fairytale of a great evil and an always – triumphant hero. I want to believe the world has such things, such stories, and that we are easily a part of it. As I find myself learning of the real villains and the real heroes, I wonder if my fantasy has been mistaken for an underwhelming ego.
What should I do when everyone has always reaffirmed I am special? We are the ‘chosen one’? A hero with no dragon. I am truly asking you.
Do we make our own dragons? Do we find out if we are truly special, made for making a difference? Made for anything? Or, have we grown past the story? Has the plot fizzled out into a mindless job just barely paying the bills?
What has the path been for, seeped in our own blood. I’ve sat highly and watched people live their lives while I sat alone on a cold throne of justice.
We are told by every inspired adult, teacher, or mentor that we are meant for something. Our voice, our pain, was meant for something. Something bigger than the terrors of our childhood. Bigger than the agony left behind in my brain. My illness makes me different from other people, it makes us special. It made you special. You have a special kind of pain that has meaning, and so we find meaning in everything that has ever happened to or existed around us.
Is this just another story we tell? Will our lives just be stuck to pages of scribbled writing and badly made art? Does the pain in standing firmly in who you are and what you believe in ever feel like anything but self – righteousness?
Have we explained away our lives? Is this always the way we coped, finding meaning in the most meaningless, painful ways of the world? Has our entire life been a coping mechanism for the traumas you faced?
Or are we something more, did we do something more? I write this letter in plea, begging for an answer I know I will not receive. I wonder if I keep living my life as if this journey will lead to a dragon, a purpose, will I feel fulfilled? Or is it right now that should bring me fulfillment, the unknown? The possibilities for dragons and stories, the possibilities of heroes being made. Or have I caved under a pressure that never existed in the first place? Have we? Do we? Will we? Who are you without me, and do you laugh reading this, knowing all will go as planned? Knowing my childish worries of a purpose are just that. A childish story I tell myself to sleep at night.
We’ve disowned friends and family based on a story you tell yourself. On a righteous, moral storyline of greatness, believing in your own folklore. I write this knowing that I currently know no other way to be, I wonder if I will learn to be something else. Am I allowed to be something else? Who will slay the dragons if I am not a hero? I wonder if we were made a writer to cope with not having dragons and fairy tales in this world. If the reason you write is because you are unsettled with your voice having no meaning but existing. Whatever version of me I become, I hope I am reading this on top of my dragon. Slayed and at rest, peacefully the journey is over. Perhaps I am not looking for dragons, perhaps you have realized long ago that what we long for is relief. An ending to a difficult story.

ProWriting Aid Style Score: 81%

My Dearest Sweet Tiffany, 

It’s 2017 where you are. I know right now you are secluded in your closet, your knees are folded beneath you, buckled in fear; while your hands clasped together, crying out to God, praying He will somehow stop the pain. Even from nearly a decade away, I can feel the hopelessness reverberating through you, penetrating the time capsules of life. I feel the salty tears you let drip from your red enflamed cheeks as well as the bruises that you hide through your clothes and makeup. Your body, aching from the blows. Your throat sore from the pressures of having been squeezed to breathlessness, quite often. Your scalp sore to the touch and migraines unending from your hair being yanked every 4-7 days or even as long as two weeks, if you’ve been lucky. Your mind is  disheveled, nearly detached from reality as a way of coping with the abuse you keep enduring. After 5 years of this, you are in complete disbelief that this is what your life has been reduced to; or that your life doesn’t even matter. My dear Tiff, you weren’t supposed to hurt this much! I wish I could hold you in this moment so you did not have to feel so alone. 

In time, you will see the truth as it comes to light and begin to understand the world around you. Don’t continue to believe the lies he’s fed you. He lied to you when he said you’d never be anything more than you are in this moment. He lied to you when he said you should unalive yourself or that you were the reason your father took his own life. He lied to you when he said you weren’t beautiful or smart or courageous.  He lied to you when he said he’d murdered someone once before. He lied about the inheritance he blamed you for him not getting. He lied when he said he never cheated. He lied when he said he stopped using drugs. He lied to his family when he told them you were the abuser. He lied to make everyone discredit you. He lied to make everyone hate you. He lied to isolate you. He lied when he said no one would believe you. He lied! He lied about everything, Tiff. But the worst lie of them all, was that he loved you. A man who loves you would never be the same man to try and take the breath of life from you. 

I know you are tired. I know you feel as though you can’t possibly make it one more day. I know you feel extremely weak and frail from simply surviving what has become the mere existence of life. My heart aches for you in this moment, knowing all you ever wanted was to be loved unconditionally, accepted for who you are, and supported.  Love was never meant to hurt like this my dear. What you are equating love with right now, is not the love God meant for you to experience. You will see. You are remarkably strong, courageous, resilient, and so much more! 

You will soon meet a couple that will give you back your life and lead you to the path of a better you. They will be strangers to you, but that September night will change the direction of your life and the lives of your children forever. They’re going to take you in and provide the one thing others couldn’t. Security. You may worry and even be afraid for them, but God has given them a spirit of protection that will keep you all safe. You will attribute your successes to them and the gift of life they gave you and your children.  They’ll be the reason you are alive and thriving in 2025. You will cherish them always and carry them in your heart where ever life leads you. 

The amazing things you are going to go on to accomplish can’t compare to the pain you feel right now. You will move to 2 new states, Florida and Ohio. You will earn multiple technical certifications in your field and become a trusted technician within the company who nurtures your career. You will enjoy the beaches, visit Alaska, Put-N-Bay, Bimini, the FL Keys, and travel back home on the road trips you love so dearly. Your circle will stay small, but they are absolutely big in your new life. Your children will learn from them watching what you couldn’t hide. They will stand for what they believe in and make their voice heard. They will make you proud. You will go on to love once more, but that love will teach you to limit the sacrifices you make in relationships. It will cause you to be firm on your boundaries and begin doing the things you want to do that you long sacrificed yourself for. You will learn to love yourself the way you should have all along. You will meet a gentleman that will give you the keys to your new home. Yes, YOUR home and yours alone. He will give you the gift of nature and this will be the beginning of your desires coming to fruition. The scenic joy you will experience will only enhance the work you’ll accomplish. You have so many things you are going to do. Like enjoying your first Ballet, going to a comedy club, visit museums, seeing an orchestra, and begin writing your first romance novel. You have so much to look forward to, Tiff. 

I cannot wait to see you here, a newer, brighter version of the amazing woman you are becoming. So keep pressing forward my dear; laughing and loving yourself to the amazing life you’re going to have in 2025. Sometimes, the best life, is just a couple of heartbreaks away.

Be sweet. Keep smiling. And I’ll see you soon my beautiful Tiffany Anne. 

Love you more, 

Yourself

Dear 16-year-old-me,

There are things you have been through that most people will never understand-things they only believe happen in movies or books because the truth is too ugly for the world to look at or acknowledge. I want you to know that I see you, and I know exactly what you are carrying.

I know what it feels like to sit in that driver’s seat, riding down back roads that you never wanted to be on, with her in the passenger seat, instructing you to drive her to her next high. She convinced you that your role in this world was to give pieces of yourself to men, thinking that you were helping her. She dressed it up as survival, as a way to fill the void that loneliness was creating inside of you, and convinced you that if you gave enough, if you were complacent enough, maybe things would settle down and she would finally love you the way she should.

But she never did.

Instead, she traded your innocence like currency. She offered you up for favors so she could feed her cravings, leaving you hollow and wondering, “Is this what love looks like?”. She betrayed you, not just because she had an obligation to you, but as the one person who was supposed to keep you safe, and what’s worse is that the world pretended not to see.

I realize you’re sitting in loneliness, feeling like you’re too much and never enough, simultaneously. Too loud, too eccentric, too awkward. They told you to be smaller, quieter, to blend in with the surrounding chaos by submitting to the same poisons they chose. They tried to drill it into you that this-this nightmare was just life.

But I’m here now, and we are living proof that they were wrong.

I want you to hear me, hear US, with every broken piece of your heart: WHAT THEY DID TO YOU DOES NOT DEFINE YOU. What she asked of you, what they took, none of it belongs to you. You are not the sum of their betrayals. You are not broken or damaged goods. You are NOT the sum of the actions that were forced upon you.

You are a wildfire they couldn’t put out. Every time they tried to smother you, to force you into the box they built, you burned a little brighter. Your constant desire to love passionately and unreservedly has always been a trait that intimidates others, a trait that I have come to understand.

I know how badly you’ve wanted someone to love you back that way. But here’s the truth I’ve learned in all the years between you and me: LOVE DOES NOT COME FROM OTHER PEOPLE. It comes from inside, and it starts from the moment you begin to accept yourself, to validate your worth, to believe that peace is something you deserve. Love, for us, became peace, not chaos. Not the violent, twisted kind you’ve known, but the quiet kind that feels like coming home to yourself.

It won’t all be easy. There are still struggles ahead, but listen to me: you have already seen the darkest this world can offer. And every day beyond that is better! Not perfect, but better.

You’ll escape those violent rooms. You’ll break those cycles that they tried to chain you. You’ll become a mother yourself, and though you won’t be perfect (none of us are), you’ll love your children with the kind of fierce devotion you never received. The day will come when you will fight like hell for them, and for yourself, too.

Eventually, you will go back to school. You’ll earn that degree you dreamed about, that you thought was out of reach. You’ll build a career, not just any job, but a life outside the box they shoved you in. And you’ll learn that sometimes, being alone is far better than being surrounded by people who only want to take from you. There’s peace in the solitude. The peace that we have earned.

And… I forgive them. Not for their sake, but for ours. I forgive the ones who turned away from our light, who couldn’t handle our wildness, our weirdness, our loudness. Their rejection doesn’t define us either.

Success, for us, exists in every single step we take outside of that box. In the moments we choose peace. Every time we speak up when they expect silence.. Every time we love ourselves when they expect us to crumble.

So hold on, sweet girl. Stay loud. Stay weird. Stay exactly who you are. There’s a world waiting for you- a world they never imagined for us. A world where we burned that box. And… It’s beautiful here.

With unbreakable love and pride,
Me

Style Score: 77%

To: 16-year-old J.R. Roland
From: 25-year-old J.R. Roland

Mom is wondering if you’ll have to depend on disability after high school graduation. If the pain keeps you from attending half a school day and getting a good night’s sleep, I suppose that’s the only conclusion to come to. I know you’re thinking the same thing. That’s why you stay home in your room, writing bright stories of high schoolers who excel in their studies and participate in dance clubs. You live through the characters of your own creation to repaint your own story.

When I look back at where you are now, I title this period you’re in as “the metamorphosis”. Things will change; your doctor is going to prescribe you a medication that’s going to make you feel like a new person. Don’t mind the side effects; the bizarre dreams you’re about to experience every night will be put to creative use later. You’ll go on to attend college, participate in dance performances, and even move across the country in hopes of making it big.

By now, you’re probably assuming I’m writing this letter to cheer you up or reassure you that everything will be alright.

I’m not.

Once chronic pain relief sets in, life’s possibilities overwhelm you. You must make new decisions, and unfortunately, you don’t always give yourself the time to think them through. This results in past problems being replaced with new ones. You stumble through life, get your heart broken many times, break your own heart, and find new ways to get hurt. You’ll find the sarcastic phrase “I’d rather have another back surgery than deal with this” to be suitable during these trials and errors.

I suppose you’ll ask me to tell you which parts you’re going to mess up on, so I can save you the heartache. Don’t ask me to curse you with the limitation of knowing your path. It will be just like the back brace you grew up in; it does a whole lot of nothing for you.

I didn’t write you this letter to make your life easier. I don’t want it to be easier. You were born out of unpredictable circumstances; a warped spine and an unreliable heart that does three-quarters of the job it should. I will not straighten what’s been bent or tune what’s beating out of order. I will not morph your timeline into a fairytale, for the unsavory situation of your birth is the very place you learned to bloom.

The ‘metamorphosis’ you’re currently experiencing plants the seed; your love for writing and storytelling. After this, you’ll move forward in life as if walking a thin tightrope as unpredictable as the curves caused by your contorted vertebrae. The winds of life knock you to either side, and you learn to balance somewhere between acceptance and disturbance, finding refuge in a consistent state of rumination and restlessness.

It is here, in these sensations, that you build your imagination a home where your creativity can bloom. It sprouts forward, just as a dandelion sprouts from the cracks in a sidewalk. Perhaps the dandelion sprouted unevenly, leaning too much to one side than another, slightly worn from foot traffic. Yet, I will not pluck that dandelion from the unsavory circumstances it grew, for it would wither and die.

Just like that, you were constructed to observe life from the perception of the crooked. You’ll find that after years of practice, the characters you create for your stories form a depth only you, yourself, know all too well. Like your spine, they morph slightly crooked to reality, all living in strange worlds that were heavily inspired by the bizarre dreams caused by that medication you’re about to start.

So no, I will not tell you your fate. Don’t expect me to warn you when your next surgery comes. You will not get cautioned which friends become enemies. I won’t tell you what choices you make that will hurt you and those around you. I’ve only written this letter to tell you that in order to reach your life’s purpose, you must experience life at its fullest and feel everything deeply. It is during the greatest moments of turmoil that you find that your life’s greatest passion is to write. Writing is your reason for being and the central element of your spiritual awakening, for you will soon realize the only afterlife you can substantially prove is the words left behind when you are gone.

So, don’t look at me to tell you what to do. Instead, look under the scar tissue zipping up your body, and you’ll find that you were born with the roadmap of your life etched in bone and marrow. An ever-twisted, bizarre existence created to birth forward a storyteller; a great curse and a magnificent gift.

Style Score: 72%

Letter to my old self
Ali Clifton
4/26/2025

Dear 16-year-old me,
Today, I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled.
When was the last time you did that?
You probably think I smiled because I could see my ribs, or because I lost ten pounds.
However, I’ve actually gained twenty-five pounds, and my ribs are well-hidden — but I smiled nonetheless.
You would not be proud of this, but you should be.
Today I am 135 pounds.
I can practically hear your gasp as you read that — the same weight you ran from, the weight you feared to see on the scale.
At 16, you are 110 pounds, yet I know that still doesn’t feel like enough.
At 140, your coach snickered about your weight, frowning when you stepped on the scale after Thanksgiving.
At 110, you got the same snickers — just in different fonts — with comments that you were withering away.
Remember when your wrestling coach said he was disappointed after you stepped on the scale and asked how much pie you ate at Thanksgiving?
But do you also remember when your coach said you were going to become nothing if you kept up the weight loss?
You can’t win when you rely on others’ comments and opinions.

Dearest me,
I remember your pain all too clearly.
I wish you could learn what I have.
I have learned to befriend the mirror, to let it reflect my beauty, and to embrace my flaws rather than critique them.
Be proud of me — for being free, for waking up with a smile because I have finally embraced myself with love and acceptance, rather than relying on others’ opinions and a silly scale.
Your weight does not define you.
I wish you had been told that earlier.

Gaining weight has been the best thing that has happened to me.
Don’t believe me? I’ll list it out for you:
I can enjoy food with my family and make fresh memories.

I have gotten faster at running because I am fueling myself!

I feel more confident.

I have gotten to try new foods that once scared me.

I don’t fear calories!

I wear a bikini with confidence.

I feel full of life!

I don’t get winded as easily.

I feel strong.

I can do pull-ups!

I have gotten to do more adventurous things and make more memories because I embrace life rather than focusing on the scale.

The journey to get here wasn’t easy.
I am nearly 21 years old (one month away — ahhh!), and I didn’t reach this point until I was 19.
Do not be hard on yourself.
It gets better.
It takes time, but you will get to this point.
One day, you will love yourself so much that you don’t even own a scale.
Be proud of me — not just for overcoming disordered eating, but for finding your passion.
You are about to go to graduate school for social work — you are going to change the world!
You are not going to become a professional runner, but you will compete competitively throughout undergrad, and you’ll learn that you are so much more than your sport.
Don’t worry — we are not going to give up running, but we are going to focus on making a difference in the world by helping people.
You still create big goals, and they are slowly coming to life.
Be proud of how far you have come.
Love,
Your older self

(62% style score)

Hey You,

Yesterday, I chased mom through a rainstorm in a mad dash to the car. She is 20 years in front of me, drenched and shining, my guiding light! We went to meet our daughter’s daughters. They are near 40 years behind me, just beginning to blossom into their own and shine.

We went to share a meal with them. We brought a hug.. and salve for the pain of lessons in the learning straight from our hearts full of love.

I wanted to tell you about how sweet this moment tastes.

I wanted you to know: I saw our line yesterday, and its beauty was unbelievable.

I wanted you to know I feel such pride…

I wanted to tell you how grateful I am for you.

Imagine how wise I will be because of every wonderful decision and each wrong turn you take? You are so much stronger than you know. The times that you are brave enough to be honest and admit that you feel so vulnerable you might break; you find the will inside to overcome.

You are a warrior… and I couldn’t respect you more.

I didn’t write to give you details.. but to affirm and confirm you instead.

Prepare yourself; it’s the path that will make you so strong.

You’ll make choices and you’ll struggle with yourself. You will feel the shame…just remember, this is where your truth will emerge.

Girl, if you had been perfect, our memories would be such a bore!

You are my hero. Did you know? I’m the one who has been there at every high, and held my breath with you at every low.

Would you believe me if I told you that between then and now, you’ll learn to use a kayak, become a model and a muse, that you’ll raise children and have grandchildren, and own your own home?

Would you believe you could fall in love with special dogs and create a bird sanctuary?

Just as you think you’re destined to be alone, you could take a chance and find the love of your life!

Would you believe you that could be an oracle? An affirmation; a survivor, or that you might represent the image of empowering women on a book’s page?

One day, you could be part of a sisterhood that spans the globe and sustains and nurtures your soul.

You should believe..

You could believe..

Please, just BELIEVE…

I know you.. and I love you.

Keep on dreaming. Your future will unfold in the most incredible ways. Never stop moving forward to find out how much is within your reach.

You are VAST.

You are POWERFUL.

You are the very source of LOVE.

You have everything within you that you need.

I am so proud of you.

Your biggest cheerleader,

Me ❤️

(Style Score:100%)

I met my younger self for coffee, 
we were both 10 minutes late. 
She tells me there was traffic 
and I chuckle because I know there wasn’t. 
She doesn’t know I just got there, too, so I tell her. 
She smiled at me with comfort; we’re both perpetually late, it seems. 

She orders a vanilla iced coffee with cream and liquid sugar, 
I get an iced latte with almond milk. 
She tells me she’s hungover, and she’s wearing sunglasses, 
I just finished my morning run with my dog; I told her I hadn’t had a drink in years. 
She asks if we can sit outside so she can smoke,
I agree because I still vape. 
She exhales, and I can feel the anger inside of her. 
I reach for her hand across the table to suggest that peace is around the corner, but she moves hers away. She’s so closed off and I recognize the pain she is hiding behind the dark circles under her eyes, disguised as a fun night out. 

Her voice cracks as she tells me she doesn’t know the girl looking back at her in the mirror, and I tell her that girl isn’t as bad as she seems. She just hasn’t found a safe place to put down the pain she’s been carrying. “Give her some grace,” I plead.

She tells me about the toxic guy she knows it won’t work out with, 
Sighing that she will never meet someone that truly sees her. 
I smile and reassure her. She will, and he is better than anything she could’ve imagined. 

She says she wants to move to a new city and get a dog, and I show her pictures of Marla, and tell her that moving out of my hometown was the best thing I ever did. 
She says she loves her job, and I told her I gave up my career to move and I am still figuring it out. 
She looks at me with scared eyes and says she hates change. 
I smile and say, “me too, but it always turns out okay.”

Style Score:100%

Casey, 

My dearest younger self, I have this chance to tell you how it’s all going to be okay, and I how it gets better, but honestly, I don’t know how to explain. I want to tell you that right now, you are okay. It doesn’t feel like it, but you are. Right now, life is so hard for you. You have people around you are saying you’re doing it wrong and everything bad that happens to you is your fault. I, as the future Casey Dawn, am promising you that is not your fault. None of it is. You have big, intense emotions and that is okay. You learn to manage them. One day, life won’t be this hard or feel this impossible. Just continue to hold on for me, okay? Happiness will find us. One day, you will love yourself. You will yield the power to build the self-esteem you could never find with the power you never knew you had. You learn that self-esteem doesn’t come from what other people think of you. Oh, my young soul, you will find a good man who loves you, he helps breathe life into your soul, so you begin to believe you are deserving of good things. You use that love to rebuild yourself. To become the person, you have always wanted to be. We end up going through a few lesser men before him, but it’s okay. Finding that one good one makes it all worth it. You find a best friend that is your friend just as much as you are hers. She is everything good in a friend. You have several good ones, but this friend is so connected to you, spiritually and emotionally. She teaches you that you deserve a wonderful friendship, even when many people disappoint you. Oh, and they will disappoint you, love. There will be a lot of times, way too many times, that you make crappy choices, trying to fill that emptiness in your heart, but it’s okay. Forgive yourself. Never stop forgiving yourself and one day you will realize it was all worth it. There will come a day when you accept that your life of struggle has made you exactly who you are. One day, you will use faith as small as a mustard seed to stand back from the ledge of ending it all. And you will find what it means to know the depths of despair and use every ounce of courage to pull yourself out. The years after that is only progress. We go to therapy, and we work hard, day after day, to improve our mind. Then one day, you will catch yourself realizing that you have the things you never believed you would have. It will hit you in a part of your spirit you never knew existed. The part of your spirit that has pulled hope from the deepest darkness. You will find joy in things you never have before. You will stop to look at the flowers you planted, the art you created and the children that you love far better than you were ever loved. You will love deeply and protect fiercely. Your life will consist of gratitude. Thankful for the life you at one time believed you would never have. You deserve it all baby and it will be yours.  Our life now is so perfectly imperfect, but it is a life we created and were blessed with. We have a life that brings you joy and that, my love, is a thought to hold onto.  You have a life that you have worked for. You have a relationship with your Dad, I know, crazy but it’s true! Most importantly, you stayed strong my love. You never gave up. People like us don’t usually have a good quality of life. People with our minds that aren’t set up right. We don’t produce the right kind of chemicals for us to be happy. The stuff we have been through played a huge part of that. It’s not your fault. Please read these words carefully, it is not your fault. You are loved. You are so very loved. I love you and I want you to know that. We will make mistakes. We will get it so wrong, but it will be okay. We make it. We feel joy, happiness and pride. We still have some struggles, but we learn to cope. We learn to lay down the guilt and the shame. You are not broken, just a few broken pieces that we meld back together with glitter and gold. We not only become whole again, but we also become something so much better. One thing I can tell you with pride is that I help other people because of what I know and have experienced.  I can tell others with confidence that it’s going to be okay. I share our story so I can bring hope to other’s darkness.  So, they know that even broken crayons color. We are kind, patient and understanding. I am what you always needed. I became the adult I always needed. You are going to be just fine sweetheart. I promise. 

I. The Hair

He—or rather, a younger edition of me—first appears as I’m getting ready.
“Whoa, dude! Are those… leg hairs I see? And you have a goatee?! We’re not just a late bloomer—we’re a freakin’ legend!”

He circles me like I’m a monument. “Back in gym class the guys used to…”

“Yeah. I remember. I still feel that sting.”

He’s unsure what to do with that, but I see the pride in his eyes. He thinks the hair means I’ve arrived.

He doesn’t yet know—I don’t measure myself in follicles and inches anymore.

II. The Bod

After my workout, he’s itching to ask more questions.
“And we’re getting in shape now? No more ‘husky’ or ‘bigboned’?” He stares like I’ve won something he thought was out of reach.

I kneel to meet his eyes. “We’re strong now,” I say, “but not because of that.”

“No more t-shirts in the pool?”

“No. We don’t hide anymore—
Not in water.
Not in mirrors.
Not in other people’s expectations.
We are free. And it had nothing to do with the numbers on a scale.”

I see the confusion as his surface-level concerns try to reckon with the depth in front of him.

III. The Prayer

He returns to find me kneeling at my bedside.

“Really? Still wasting time on that useless chore?” He backs away, suspicious. “I thought we ditched the whole bearded-genie-in-the-sky thing.”

I nod. “We did.”

He blinks. So, I tell him about the well—

How prayer became water.

How warm-ups replaced those wish lists.

How a performance turned to a partnership.

How desperate searching gave way to deliberate appreciation.

How counterfeit catchphrases transformed to true communion.

He’s quiet, but I notice—he’s stepped closer.

IV. The Stage

When the curtain rises, he gasps.

There I am—center stage, guitar in hand, jamming with my students dressed like rockstars.

He howls with laughter as I channel Jack Black in School of Rock: The Musical.
His voice reaches me over the crowd: “You’re not shy anymore?!”
He’s laughing so hard, he’s crying.

I nod, a knowing smile on my lips and a glistening tear in my eye.
My voice cuts through the cheers of the crowd, “I stopped hiding the best parts of us. I stopped fixating on what others think.”

V. The Fall

Then, the crowd fades. It’s just me and him beneath a moonless sky.

His voice wavers, and then he asks the question haunting all the others.
“What about the collapse? The ground that vanished beneath us?”

We tremble, remembering.

“We died that day. Then, a miracle—

We started living again.”

“Are you saying it gets better?” His voice flickers like a flame.

“Not better.
Deeper.
The pain became our teacher. We found God—
not a being of rules and shame,
but of poetry and presence.
Not a being at all
But rather Being itself.
Nothing more
or less
than
Love.”

VI. The Mirror

This last confession shakes him. He stares like I might be a dream, a lie, a hallucination.

I meet his gaze with love.

He whispers a single shaky syllable, “How?”

“Books brought us home.
Writing built the walls, the fireplace, the hearth.
With the right teacher, we gathered our shattered pieces—the shimmering shards—and made a miraculous mosaic.”

His eyes brim with tears. I press on.

“And you know what’s even better? We offer that same love to others who are
broken in those places.
That’s the holy ground, kid.
That’s where it all turned around.”

VII. The Embrace

Tears stream down his face— words no longer necessary.

We reach out for each other—and another marvel transpires.

We’re no longer alone…. Gathering together is-

The toddler with peanut butter-stained cheeks and a galactic grin.

The inquisitive boy, as eager to ask questions as he is to have them answered.

The wild middle schooler, drifting in and out of trouble, desperate for acceptance.

The tortured teen, fists clenched around a guarded heart, keeping his distance.

The floating 20-something, gobbling up theories, aching to fix the world.

The disciple of a love unnamed but radiant.

The gray-haired man, face wrinkled from years of smiles, twinkling eyes, and eyebrows raised.

And at the center, it’s me— as I am now— a companion of Christ whose heart rests, whose arms open wide.

We wrap around each other like tree roots.

We laugh, we weep, we whisper gratitude—for life, for love, even, if not especially,
for the lows that led us home.

And then, we raise a glass:

To the road.

To the ruin.

And most of all,
To the return.

I got a 90% on my style score with this one 🎉

The identity of me…
I have seen grace extended in my life that I did not deserve. Moving through time, I have walked down a lot of empty roads. Searching for my way back to the garden. Often at the pain and expense of those closest to me. It hurts to ponder on the past. But without acknowledgment of who I was, I would be blinded by their impact on my life now.

When you are in the world, you don’t know it. You are asleep in the matrix and simply follow the path of least resistance most days. Before I got saved, I would stop and look up at the stars, pondering if there was some unseen purpose to it all.

I mean, this couldn’t be all there is, could it?? Always feeling that
emptiness inside. That hole in my heart, that I could not seem to fill no matter what mask I chose to wear.

Oh, the masks I have worn on this journey to find the real me.

Hiding away from the world,
the delicate boy who was inside.

What if they saw who I really was??

Oh, the times I gave my life away, trying to prove my worthiness to a world that did not care. Investing the gift of my life in dangerous things. Placing it all on the line for nothing.

Looking back, I see now how many times God was long-suffering on my behalf. How many times could he have passed judgment. And now the realization: if he had I would have been found guilty. I deserved every bit of wrath. I earned it.

Now, though, when I read the Bible, I understand when it says. “He commendeth His love towards us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”
When I was at my worst, He was at His best. It had to be that way. So, when saving grace came my way, I would know that it came through no power of my own.

It’s been fourteen years since I gave my life to Christ. And in that time, I am still finding my identity. Working to find out who I am supposed to be in Him. In my quiet time, I find Him in His Word.

He is not interested in the masks I wear.

Oh, how I wish I could say that in the past tense. I want to shed the masks. But from time to time, I still put them on. Maybe not as often as I used to. I am grateful for that.

My heavenly Father growing me, as He raises the scared little boy into a man.

So much of who I thought I was has been chipped away.

Burned away in a fiery bush on the front lawn of my heart.

A constant work of the father to bring a son to a place of usefulness.

God’s desire is for me to be useful for His kingdom and His purpose.
But the climb is one of obedience. Not of strength. I can only accomplish the things He has set before me in the power of His will. Not my own.

There is no room for masks, or the man I pretended to be.

God loves us, but He hates our pretense. Our games.
Oh, the games we play in His name.
Yet, there is grace to grow.
And in my growth, I must mature. I must find my identity in the man God has called me to be. Looking back down the roads of my life, I see how far He has brought me. Yet, I know there is still a long way to go. Therefore, I let go of preconceived thoughts of what He is calling me to, or the places He would have me go. I search out instruction from the Holy Spirit.

God will direct our paths if we listen to that still, small voice.
And He talks ever so slightly to us. He wants our full attention to that voice. He wants us to be still in our lives so that we can hear it well.

Truth is, I do not fully understand who I am to be in Christ. But I am excited to find out.
A man who is stronger, kinder, and more full of love. I know he’s out there in my future.
I can’t wait to meet him.
Or, better yet, to become him.
I have found out through Christ that the true identity of me, is still yet to be.

Style Score:90

I see you in that trailer of darkness and fear.
The dirt floors and empty cabinets tug at your heart and break your spirit.
I see the hands that cause you harm, and I see you holding onto anything you can—your doll, Betsy, sitting in the corner, barely held together with thread, but she is yours. She stays, even when others do not. You hold her close because sometimes, she feels like the only safe place you have.

I know that life seems so unkind, so unfair right now. And it is.
But I also know you’re resilient.
You have taken the impossible and learned how to fly.

One day, you will rise above all of this—
above the abuse,
above the isolation,
above the abandonment.

You will grow into someone who knows how to hold her own heart gently,
who speaks softly to her scars,
who stands steady in her truth.

There will be days when the ache feels unbearable.
There will be nights when the silence presses in too close.
And on one of those nights—lost, grieving, unsure where to place the pain—you will pick up a pen.

It will seem small at first, scribbles on notebook paper, words poured out because you don’t know what else to do with the ache.
But those words will become your shelter.
They will hold what feels too heavy to carry alone.
They will give shape to the sorrow and the questions you are too afraid to say out loud.

Writing will save you.
Not by fixing the past,
but by giving you a place to lay it down.
By giving voice to the girl no one listened to.
By making room for the grief, and the grace, and the quiet survival between them.

You will come to know God again—
not just the God others told you about,
but the God who was with you behind the dirty couch,
who curled in close and made you feel less alone.
Your faith will become something tender and true, not because you were unhurt, but because you were held.

And slowly—word by word, line by line—you will find yourself again.
You will write your way back to the girl they tried to break.
You will write your way forward into the woman they could not destroy.

I am so proud of you.
Not because you were fearless—
but because you kept going,
even when you were afraid.
Even when no one clapped.
Even when your hands were shaking.

You are here.
Still becoming.
Still rising.
Still worthy.

You will not stay broken.

ProWritingAid Style Score: 100%

Dear…You,

I hope this gets to you before, nevermind. We made it past thirty, remarkable I know. Everything is very different, but somehow still the same. Despite the threat of world war three, we somehow still get cool guyed at shows by members of bands that’ll break up in three months. Kinda funny when you think about it. Mom died, it sort of…changed everything. Dad remarried, she’s really nice and takes good care of him. It’s tough, but it’s what he deserves after those twenty-eight long years. I don’t have any words of wisdom for you. I can tell you to invest in whatever, but it’s all going to shit anyway, and it started before we were born, so just strap in. I know you’ll be okay; I am here, you are there. We know we will make it out alive.

Best wishes.

Me

Style score : 100%

To the version of myself who walked through hellfire,

I am sorry that you feel the pain that you do. I’m sorry for the years you spent stuck on the outside looking in, never quite belonging, and for all the times people misunderstood or misjudged you. But most of all, I’m sorry you had to forget who you were while you made a home within sorrow.

I stand with you through it all, and I see you. I see the way you get back up, time and time again—how your hope never fled with each fracture upon your heart. I heard your silent screams and desperate pleas.

When the time is right, I’ll grab hold of your hand and bring you back into the light. I’ll stoke the flame within you that refused to be snuffed out. I’ll pull you from the ashes and let you truly meet yourself for the first time.

You’ll understand, in one moment—all at once—why everything happened how it did. You were so broken, but never lost faith in love or yourself, even when it felt like it.

You never shied away from exposing your heart and letting others in; No matter how black their hearts turned out to be. None of it deterred you. No, it only strengthened you.

You understood the cycle and saw the patterns. You discovered the truth of your strength where many would’ve let their hearts wither away. You knew this so deeply that you never had to announce it. It just was.

It became the piece of you that sat within your mind—solid and unwavering. The pretty thing you’d look at when nothing else made sense.

And somewhere along the way, magic happened.

It’s within the glint of your own strength that you found the tools you needed and the answers you’d been searching for. Courage flooded your veins like a tide, there to stay as you chose yourself for the first time.

You did all of this while you dined with the devil. You lived in fear for a long time. Until enough was enough, and terror lost its home in your energy.

You discovered his weakness was your strength, and you bided your time—waiting in the discomfort, so sure of your worth. Because of your patience, I whispered in your ear.

And you heard me.

I asked you to rise—Told you that you’d sat in the ashes long enough, and the time to burn was no longer yours.

All it took was one word to convince you that the time to fight back was now. One word, and you clawed your way out of the devil’s den and onto solid ground. Where light returned to you, the wind caressed your face, and the birds sang to you once more.

Ascend.

Style score : 100%

dear little one,
young curious you. young free you.
never knowing what life would bring you through
how amazing to witness your path.
often times i look at your journey and laugh.
born in poverty but you never realized the lack.
father an addict, baltimore city became his trap.
you relied on village, and carried that on your back
passionate mother who just wanted you to survive
she gravitated to spirituality as she seen a way for you to thrive
even the separation from friends was rough.
but you packed your bags followed her lead, cause that was your form of trust.
now a preachers’ kid country living not too tough.
you missed your father’s presence, but that was your past so live and hush.
there were times your simple innocence and being was violated.
feels that you just adjusted and became situated.
cause who takes advantage of you at 3.
you struggled who really fought for you, who really fought for me.
you found your way, sports, basketball became your glory.
never knew that passion lied in your father’s untold story.
you were intrigued by words and how the story unfolds.
and here is were the rebirth explodes.
you dribbled that ball up and down those country roads.
A C-Student but your intelligence was one of a mystery on the verge to unfold.
from plays,spelling bees, and advocating for a plethora of disabilities.
you stood fast on your dreams and carried that mind and ball on your hip.
entered college, bowie state, on a full basketball scholarship.
of course bumps, and u-turns made their mark.
but somehow, “little one” your journey always had a start.
i remember thinking you weren’t going to make it.
riotous living, trying to cope.
dabbled in it all, partying, drinking, and dope.
but little one, that knowledge you never escaped and that’s why i know “little denay” was worth the wait.
writing you now to just to say how proud of where you landed.
i know at times you couldn’t understand it.. but i watched you grow and honestly knew the universe had their hand it. glad to meet you little one. tell the naysayers our story has just begun.

-dna
“denay fields”

Dear my still-naive 22-year-old,
The man who gives you butterflies, who makes the rain feel like mango blossoms blooming on dry branches, who makes you giddy over texts and shy glances—one day, being near him will feel like standing barefoot on shards of glass. And when that day comes, you’ll learn: it’s okay.
The phone call you wait for all day, where you giggle while telling him you cracked eggs to make khagina—those calls will vanish. You’ll see him in person all day, yet want to leave the room because the air will grow heavy, tight, silent. Like sitting through a song that once lifted you but now plays off-key. You’ll learn: it’s okay.
The man you defied your world for—your work, your rules, your parents—because he lit you up from the inside, made you feel like an entire festival of lights… one day, you’ll sit across from him and wonder when he became a stranger in familiar skin. You’ll look for the spark you fell in love with and find a dull flicker. You’ll beg yourself to stop searching, and learn to accept the dimming. And yes—you’ll learn, again: it’s okay.
He who once called you the most beautiful person he’d ever known will now question your ways, your beliefs, your very sense of self. You’ll ache to bring back the version of him that made you feel enough. You’ll try to mold yourself like soft clay, reshaping pieces to please him—only to realize you’re slowly erasing your fingerprints. And when the realization settles in like cold rain, it will whisper what you’d been trying not to hear: nothing lasts forever. And still, you’ll learn: it’s okay.
Remember how your father told you, never lose your identity? At the time, it felt like good advice. But love made you reckless. You sprinted toward it, arms open, thinking you’d finally found your home. You believed love was enough to build a life on. But now, in your quiet moments, you’ll understand: even the strongest houses crumble without a foundation rooted in self.
You weren’t born to orbit someone else’s life. You came here to be your own sun.
And when that thought becomes your truth—not just something you repeat to feel better—you’ll begin to stand taller. You’ll gather the scattered pieces, brush off the dust, and claim your space. Not as someone’s half, but as your whole self. And that day, you’ll not only learn—it will feel divine.
In the middle of it all, you’ll rediscover the flavors of your truth. Dal and rice, once a routine meal, will feel like warm hugs again. The alu tikki that once thrilled you because he liked it will begin to feel like someone else’s nostalgia. But that egg roll, the one made exactly how it was back home—that will taste like your roots, your story, your kitchen. You’ll remember: you were never lost. You just went quiet for a while.
So world, here’s what I want you to know:
Through every twist and heartache, I’ve held onto the bolts that make me me. I’ve watered the wilted parts, stitched up the torn pieces, and found the soft voice inside me again. The innocent believer I once was? She’s still here. Not untouched, but unbroken. Changed, yes. But never gone.
And now, I know—with all my heart—it’s not just okay.
It’s powerful.

Infinite Lifetimes Within One
I. On Living and Loss
I have been struggling to try to figure out how to heal, and I just realized I may have
known all along. Like I’ve always done it. I’ve done it again and again and again in my
life.
If I’ve had enough experiences in my life to last someone’s lifetime, then the gift is
receiving multiple lifetimes. To try again and live differently. I suppose that in itself is a
blessing. To have seen and felt means to have lived. And I have lived—not for long, but
in depth.
Self-actualization comes through time and experience, and I’m only 31. But I’ve
survived worse, much worse. And I can do it again.
II. On Humanity and Complexity
We all exist here on Earth to teach each other lessons—either through love or pain.
Humanity can only be so perfect. We can only hope to do so much, but only so much is
within our human grasp.
Our capacity to love is great, but so are the flaws that come with being human. The
lenses we look through, the experiences that shape us—these make us who we are,
and also make the mistakes we make. To accept humanity in its purest form is to accept
imperfection.
III. On Thought, Self, and the Static of Society
I sometimes feel quite alone in these thoughts. My friends and family aren’t always at
this level of comprehension. Most of what I reflect on is philosophical: societal
development, the human being, the coexistence of good and evil, of light and dark.
We live in a time where media overload overstimulates people into distraction. It
becomes hard to see through the static. People get lost. I still get lost. But I'm still
human—still flawed. Understanding, though, is better than not knowing at all.
To be the person you want to be means removing the noise and looking inward instead
of outward. Who are you when you are alone? When emotions rise and fall? When
nothing exists but your own particles and soul, what does it mean to exist then? Who
am I, if I am not defined by outside perspectives?
The greatest question remains the shortest: Why?

IV. On Immortality and the Nature of Change
People crave immortality, seek it, have always sought it. But what is the point of living
forever? As we live, the choices we make—our downfalls, our growth—these are
already signs of rebirth, over and over.
Why seek eternity when we are already gifted with infinite lives within one?
Is it better to sit forever in the face of fear, or to embrace the unknown and understand
life and darkness for what they are? Nature is not about to change for us—it is constant.
But we are the variable. We can grow, change, pursue. We can also slip, fall, and crave.
With every darkness comes light, and with light comes darkness. We live in a cycle of
change, because as nature is constant, and change is nature, change is constant.
V. On the Soul, Reality, and the Final Question
If reality was fractured, how many of us would still be whole? How many of us would still
be able to identify the self? Could you?
You can debate that consciousness is the identity to the self—but is it not dependent on
the bricks we’ve laid to build that consciousness within ourselves as we age?
Reality may be the veil that holds the fabric of existence together, but on a different
level—immeasurable to human science—is the soul still intact if reality no longer is? If it
is, who are we at base? If not, should the soul’s energy be a measurable quantity in this
world?
If I’m still asking, who are we at base?—perhaps it is the journey and the destination to
both have the question and have it unanswered. Perhaps the debate is to debate. To
question life is to live it. To question who we are and what life is without other static is to
clearly see the question, even if we never hold the answer.
But going back to the point of humans as a flawed creature—intelligent, however
flawed—the mind wanders forward, but it also wanders backward. It may never truly be
that this question can be answered, until we stop having experiences.
And perhaps then, the answer to life is, in fact:
Death.
VI. Closing Reflection
I am not searching for answers. I am living the questions. And that is enough for now.

Dear Rose,
I know it’s dark. I know it’s scary. You are unsure of what the future holds.You’re only five, your earliest memories shouldn’t be like this. I have so much to tell you and you might not understand it all right now. You might even think I’m crazy. Please, just try to listen.

That horrible man will go away, eventually. Please hang on to your spirit. Mommy will get better. Please keep her laughing. Your brothers will soon be your friends. Please hold on to the fun times. You will get through this stuff.

Now I need to warn you……
You will fall in love, but your heart will get broken (a lot). You will get through school, but it will be very hard. Making friends will be easy, but you’ll lose most of them. The word dad will mean something, but not the way you think. You will go to therapy for help, but it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

But within those things…..
You will be with the man of your dreams. He will find you at the right moment. Your high school graduation is coming. You worked hard and earned it. You will have friends. The few who are true are the only ones you keep. Your dad is not blood, he is the carrier and protector of your heart. Therapy is hard and there’s no other way to put it. Ironically, that’s what makes it work.

So the answers to those questions in your little head right now are…….
His name is Domanic. Buckeye Community Highschool is where. Their names are Bri, Taylor, Caity, and Xah. You will have more than one counselor. You’re a mommy to a little boy. You have your very own home. You’re doing good. You have struggles.

All at the same time…
You are loved. You are strong. You are worthy. You are kind. You are the best version of yourself at the moment. I can’t wait to see all the rest of the versions we become.
Gently,
You at twenty-four <3
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