A Letter to Myself
Hey you. Yeah, you with the freckles splattered all over and the constant smile. I know what you're thinking. That's because I'm actually you, looking back at everything that you've ever imagined, dreamed, sung, or written. It's not neat, or organized, tucked away perfectly on a shelf, but it's messy, sad, and absolutely beautiful. I can see what you never knew about yourself, the thoughts that you didn't understand, the situations that you thought only you could have experienced. And I can tell you that it's all ok. All of the imperfect, sloppy writing that recorded your everyday life is precious, utterly precious, because it tells the story of how you saw life as a little kid. The attempts to describe your current crush, the conflicts between your friends, and the successes with music and sports preserve the teenager who struggled to understand the life surrounding her. Every poem and song lyric, every recorded emotion of anguish and ecstatic joy, every wandering thought of anxiety, is there to remind you of who you are today. So don't regret a single word of it. Each different syllable expresses who you were, and who you will become. Never stop writing.