#Letter to my Younger Self

[bodhrancomedy]

A letter to my younger self (with a blocked nose so breathing is hard)

[katherine-ophelia]

Love should be freely given, not withheld.

to: younger self, from: older self

[dougwallen]

Bernard Fanning "Letter to My Younger Self" interview for The Big Issue Australia

[laikacore]

i reach back and i say,

“you are ten. it has been the hardest thing you’ve lived through so far, or the hardest that you can hold in your mind, and

it will only get harder

but it will also get better.

you see me here,

i’m nearly twice your age

and i’m still learning to be you.

you cry when you need to cry, you laugh when you feel to laugh

you run and you play and you sing.

here i’m undoing the damage

that will tear you apart for the next

several

years

but

now i’m learning

to cry when i need to cry and laugh when i feel to laugh

and eat and sleep and play what and when i want

and love and be loved

and not bend over backwards

for someone who doesn’t deserve it.

and like you i need to learn these lessons over and over again

and like you when i mess up i’m just looking to be loved

and like you i’m never going to stop

and for you i’m going to make sure

everything will work out just fine.”

for myself at ten by laika wallace

[yesimtrashforit]

I graduate high school tomorrow, so I wrote a letter to my 13 year old self.

Dear 13-year-old me,

Hi. It's your senior year self. We made it, kid. We did it. That's the first thing I want you to know. As of me writing this, we are 1 day away from graduating high school and 41 days away from turning 18 years old. I know you would probably have so many questions. That's normal. I know that you are terrified of what the future brings, and that's okay. I just wanted to write to you, because without you, I wouldn't be here. I mean, obviously I wouldn't be here, but you get my point.

I know that, at this moment, you feel so worthless. Your shoulders hurt from carrying all this pain. It is just so heavy. You feel like everyone is mad at you. You need to know that it is no one's fault. I know this sounds cliche, but life just happens that way sometimes. I'm going to answer the questions of yours that I can, but as always, we still don't have the answers to everything.

Firstly, yes, you're going to be okay. Your definition of okay is different than mine, but that's to be expected. You're alive. You are physically on this planet. That seems impossible, but I swear it's true. No one believes me when I tell them that you genuinely didn't think you would make it to 17. (I really didn't.) That's not surprising, considering that nobody knows what you're going through right now. There's a couple people in your life right now who are taking it upon themselves to brainwash you into thinking you are all these terrible things. That you're selfish, ugly, stupid, hated, whatever horrible insults that I, honestly, don't even remember much of anymore. I wanted to tell you that the biggest shock of all, despite all these wonderful and less wonderful surprises in your life, is that you are worth something. You, yes, you, the young lady who is, for better or for worse, so emotional that it destroys you. You, the girl at the back of the class who is just so overwhelmed by everything. You, the girl who has tried so hard and tripped up so many times that it feels like your whole life is one big error. You, the girl who feels like being friends with you should come with a warning sign, "caution: this is not a stable person." And most of all, you, the girl who tears herself apart to justify mistreatment from others. You are worth something. I wish I could hug you and be there for you. In a way, I am there, deep inside your soul, just.. waiting.

Second, these terrible days do nothing other than proving that you're human and you will make mistakes. Look, kids in middle school are idiots. That's just the simple truth. Everything feels so important. What you look like, what you say, what movies you watch, who you like, who you don't like. The thing is that this stuff doesn't matter. Who you are, right now, at thirteen, is not going to change anything important in your life, except what lessons you learn. It's so cliche at this point, but it is absolutely true that mistakes become lessons learned. However, these lessons often have to be learned over and over again until they really stick. It is detrimental to try and apologize and fix mistakes that haven't been made yet. That's what you're doing now and you need to know that no one, absolutely no one, is ever going to justifiably hate you for it. In life, it's not about whether or not someone hates you or criticizes you. It's whether or not they are justified in this criticism. Hint: most of the time, they aren't. Now, what will you do about it? Will you let it define and puncture every moment you think to yourself that you're pretty, you're smart, etc.? The answer is, for next couple years of your life, yes, we will and we did. Oh, boy, did we. Yes, spoiler alert: what you're going through right now affected your life in a pretty bad way for about three years. I wish I could've prepared you for that. But then again, we wouldn't be as strong today. Are we still emotional as heck to the point where we can sometimes be moved to tears by a video of a cute puppy? Yeah. Are we still so petty that we've had spirals of planning revenge to get back at the people who hurt us? Yeah. Do we still have moments of doubt, regret, guilt, and shame? Absolutely. But can we take an insult or criticism by people whose opinions don't matter? Most of the time, yes. Like a champ. You are much more vulnerable today, but you have at least some wisdom and strength. You're stronger emotionally and I think that's all we wanted at 13.

Third, adults are right except for when they're not. Right now, the adults in your life who are trying their best to help you? They have barely any clue of what it is like to be a thirteen-year-old girl in early 2020. A shocking thing I realized is that the adults in your life are not always right. Especially when it comes to bullying. Oddly, the things adults told me that I thought were wrong were right and vice versa. "Just ignore them. They'll get bored eventually." That may have worked for them, but the kids of today have the determination of a bull chasing the color red. "Fight back. They'll leave you alone after that." We tried, in our own way at least. It didn't do anything. It doesn't do any good to stoop to someone else's level. In the words of a film you haven't seen yet, but will love with all your heart: "The only thing I do know is that we have to be kind. Please, be kind. Especially when we don't know what's going on." I know it sounds insane. Being kind to the people who try their hardest to put us down. But what I've learned is that standing down is better than fighting back. In the words of a Taylor Swift song you have yet to hear: "Sometimes giving up is the strong thing. Sometimes to run is the brave thing. Sometimes walking out is the one thing that will find you the right thing." It sounds pathetic and sad, but not fighting the fire and letting the flames consume you instead is the best decision when you've tried everything else. You just have to let time do its thing. Time is the most effective medicine.

Fourth, and this is one of the most important lessons you'll learn in life: having no friends will be the greatest thing to ever happen to you in your teenage years. Let's be honest, most of your friends have not been great. Even if they didn't outright insult you or put you down, they were often still not good for you. Don't just settle for anyone who wants to be your friend. Being alone and wallowing in your feelings and sitting by yourself at lunch for several months teaches you a lot. You learn about yourself and who you want to be. Being alone is okay. It's going to be okay. Have standards for who you surround yourself with.

Finally, what now? You got really into cartoons. Taylor Swift is still your role model in everything you do. You got really into movies. You watch a lot of sad ones. You read books when you have the time. You made really great friends. Yeah, you did. These people are the sweetest, funniest, and smartest people you know. You proved everyone wrong. You are smart. You are loved. You are worthy. And I know you're me, but I'm still so proud of you. I'm proud of us. It took a couple years for us to feel okay with ourselves, to love ourselves, but we do. I love our weirdness. I love how meticulously we analyze movies and books. I love how passionate and creative we are. I love how ridiculous excited we get to play trivia games. I love how we have to resist the urge to dance in public to the music in our headphones. I love how obsessed we get with our favorite shows and podcasts to the point where it's all we can think about. I love our awkwardness in social situations that we'd rather not be in. I love how much we try to act all tough and angsty, but we're really just a big heart on the inside. I love the moments we have when we realize how life is good to us. Those moments when we are talking to the kiddos at church and realizing just how small and beautiful the world seems to them. Those moments when we listen to a song that really resonates with us and my heart swells with love for the piece of art I have the privilege of experiencing. Those moments where we look around at everyone and everything in our lives and think "this is enough. It is enough to just be here." We're certainly not perfect. We are messy and crazy sometimes, but there are people who love us despite that.

There are so many questions I wish I'd known the answer to in middle school, and the scary thing is that we still don't know some of those answers. But, the most important thing from now on is that we try our best at everything and we don't judge ourselves for not living up to every single expectation. To quote that same film I mentioned earlier, "Every rejection, every disappointment has led you here to this moment. Don't let anything distract you from it." I've realized recently that my motto is this: failure is the best teacher and you can only define helpful failure when it happens. What I mean is that failure is not the rude voice in the back of your mind that could give Fletcher from Whiplash a run for his money. Failure is the voice that says "ok, that happened how it did. Let's pick ourselves up and try again." The only person you need to prove yourself to is you. The proud version of you. The best version of you. The true version of you.

And so I leave you with this: do everything in and with love. Carry yourself with love and the knowledge of how it surrounds you. I love being us and everything that comes with it.

[survivingdivorce]

Hi, my fellow pals of children of divorce. How have you been doing? Have you been eating and sleeping well? Are you doing well? I hope you are.

Did it get better, somehow? Does it ever get better? I hope it did; and continues to always do.

You deserve your own happiness, and your own world. You are free to choose yourself and to become your highest being, your best and kindest version of yourself.

No matter how hard it gets, it always gets easier and better too, somehow... only if you focus on your progress and betterment. Let go of that person of your past. Let go of the ghosts of your past. They don’t have a place in your present life anymore 🤍

(Also, don’t you think we need to stop identifying ourselves as a child of divorce? It sounds weird and the pain is too old for that.)

You are so strong, I hope you know that. And after reading this, I hope you can accept that. Sometimes when you tell yourself that you are strong, or when people tell you that, you don’t believe them or yourself. So I hope you have the courage to believe that you are strong and I am immensely grateful of how strong you are as a person.

Remember, you are never alone. Things happened this way to allow you to become your best self and to send you to places so unimaginably beautiful you could cry just thinking about it. You are loved, without having to ask for anyone’s permission.

You’ll do great.

But most importantly, you’ll be fine.

You’ll be fine.

[chilikit]

in the spirit of trans day of visibility, i'd like to make an appreciation post for my younger self. being a kid and teenager was not easy for him— he was always lonely and struggled with anxiety and depression and thought he had to hide behind the mask of a girl and baggy clothes. but he is the reason i'm here today.

kit, you may not like yourself, but i do. i love you and i am so proud of you and grateful for your strength every day. you are a very brave boy. you may feel invisible most of the time, but i see you. happy trans day of visibility.

[casperolivervo]

A Letter For Little Me

This is also posted on my Medium blog, along with other writings of mine!

A letter as a trans man who's about to get my top surgery tomorrow. I decided to sit and write a letter for my younger self, and I figured I'd share it in case anyone else may find comfort in it/relate to any of what's said.

  Dear Little Me, 

  It’s Casper, aka you from 2023. Hope you like the name we’ve chosen! We’re now 27, and tomorrow is a very big day for us: we’re getting top surgery tomorrow!

  We’ve wanted this for quite a while, huh? Over ten years we’ve wanted this change. Over ten years we’ve wanted to make this body really feel like ours, and now it’s finally happening. I hope you’re not disappointed in how long it took, but are rather excited to know that it will in fact happen!

  For a long time we’ve struggled to feel at home in our body, we’ve struggled to identify with our birth name, we’ve struggled to connect with the life that many of the adults around us expected for us to live. We’ve lived on such a tight leash with such a painful muzzle for so long, I know it’s hard to imagine a life without it. I promise you: we will free ourselves, and we will make this body a true home for ourselves.

  As I prepare us for tomorrow, I remember how we used to cry to mom at night about hating our chest and our painful menstrual cycles. We would beg for mama to help us, working towards a breast reduction or getting on birth control to alleviate the pains, to alleviate the dysphoria.. she did what she could, but it never felt like enough. We didn’t know at the time, but our gender dysphoria was trying to communicate to us that something was off. You did the right thing to listen to the feeling, and I am so sorry that so many of the adults around you made it feel unsafe to be even more open about it. But I want you to know: there are adults who love and support you, I promise you that those adults will continue to fight for you in the ways that they can.

  We’re no longer in Indiana, we escaped! We moved to Florida for a while, but that wasn’t the place for us. In fact, Florida got worse than Indiana was in some ways. While being there led to many amazing and wonderfully life-changing experiences, we also would have been unsafe to stay. Us and our polycule (wife, boyfriend, and queer-platonic partner/QPP) are all now safely in Oregon. It’s like the best of both worlds: we live in a rural farm town again, but it’s far more liberal and diverse than in Indiana. We’re also still in contact with many of our Indy friends, even as many of them flock and flee to other parts of the world- or those who have stayed in Indiana to continue the fight to make things better. We’ve also made many wonderful new friends and have built a new family for ourselves.

  I know it can be hard to imagine, but we pursued what we really wanted to do: we’re an actor! You grow up to become a voice actor for podcasts, an award-winning script writer and stage performer, we’re doing drag shows as a pageant-crowned drag king, and we’re helping host murder mystery parties as we PRETEND to be a detective… I know you never wanted to actually be an officer of the law, and I promise we’ll never be forced into that role. In fact: we’re staunchly ACAB. (I promise you’ll learn what that means sooner rather than later). You never wanted to go into the military, and you did the right thing by backing out of that by any means necessary. I know it seems like dad’s plan for you is the only option that you have, but it is not, and we’re living a far better life than we could have imagined.

  Now that we’re in Oregon, we’re able to spend our time making art and helping fellow queer and disabled people.

  Before you fight me on it: honey, we’re disabled. No matter what dad said about health, we are disabled and that is a-okay… Our body and brain need more care, and I promise you’ll get the care you need. Our new doctor is wonderful and we have a medical team that believes us. We are not weak or lazy, we’re ill and our body needs extra care- like Sarah, ours is just harder to see than hers.

  We’re able to work with our friends and partners to make art and create resources for folks in need. We’re able to connect with people like us, or people that are so different from ourselves that it opens our eyes to brand new ways of life, and we’re made all the better for it. We’re able to help kids who grew up like us to live better and happier lives, we’re able to meet people much older than us who have so much wisdom about life that we’re finally able to receive.

  Unfortunately, mama is gone now… I promise you: it is not your fault. We knew that she would die before us, likely while we were young… but it isn’t the end of the world when that happens. It hurts, but we survive. Make the most of your time with her while you can, and when she’s gone we’ll find new ways to communicate and contact her. Our witchcraft is still very important to us, and it allows us to become even closer to our mama than we ever believed possible. You need time without her to work on yourself, and you’ll eventually be able to have a healthier relationship with her.

  Dad’s gone too, but not in the same way. We finally had the strength to cut him out of our life. You don’t need to worry about him, he’ll be okay. Cutting him out is going to be the best thing you could do for yourself. It’ll hurt and be hard, but it’s going to be such a freeing and liberating experience. He can’t control our life, he can’t force us into anything we don’t want to do, he can’t keep us in a box anymore. I promise you: life is so much better without him tugging on the leash or tightening the muzzle anymore. You will miss him and the good times with him, but you’ll find far better parental figures over time. And you’ll also find out that you are not the only person that he mistreated, and many adults did see how he was treating you as bad. You’ll have more allies than you could imagine, you’re not alone.

  Tomorrow is our first gender-affirming operation. We have the medical support we need for it, we have a community of loved ones helping us through, and we have the insurance and finances to afford it. We still are fighting to get other medical needs met, but it is infinitely better than it was in Indiana.

  As of right now, I don’t have much more to say. I still need to set up our recovery space and make sure the home is clean before I become unable to do chores for a while. But I wanted to give you a sliver of hope that things will get better, and I’m sure I’ll write more letters to you over time.

  Thank you for holding on and continuing to fight, I promise it’ll all be worth it. We’re still fighting for better, but we’re not doing it alone anymore.

  I love you, hun. I promise you’re doing great, and you’ll come to love yourself in time. Be kind to yourself until then, you’ve gone through a lot.

Sincerely,

  Older You.

IMAGE ID: a photo of my younger (still femme) self smiling in the rural Indiana countryside.

[sixbucks]

‘Dear Brian’: Read Brian Eno’s letter to his 21-year-old self

By Roisen O'Connor

Brian Eno is one of a number of friends and fellow artists to contribute to a project by Reverend and the Makers for their forthcoming album, Heatwave in the Cold North.

To mark the release of the band’s new single “A Letter to My 21-Year-Old Self”, frontman Jon McClure asked fans and friends to write their own letters imparting wisdom to their past selves with an exhibition held in Sheffield last night.

Read Brian’s letter below.

Dear Brian,

As clever as you think you are you could benefit from a little more humility. You hold very strong views but I suspect that this is often because you admire the other people who hold those views and hope that some of their worldliness will rub off onto you. Sometimes, you must admit, you haven’t thought those matters through very carefully, and yet you argue for them as though you’ve spent years thinking about them.

Although none of that is unusual in young men, it is unseemly in you. Your gift for absorbing information, and your good memory, make you able to chatter convincingly about lots of different things. That is amusing and people like you for it. What is not so good is the certainty with which you then communicate the mishmash of semi-random titbits you’ve gulped down. You would do well to listen a little more to others who have had lifetimes of experience - instead of a few evenings of reading books.

This is not to say book knowledge is to be sneered at - but neither is lived experience, of which, it must be said, you don’t really have much.

Have you ever asked your parents what their lives have been like, and what understandings they might have gathered on the way - having passed through, among other things, an economic depression and a world war? No - I thought not. They aren’t readers like you so you can’t understand what they might know, what kinds of things they might understand. If it isn’t written down you don’t think it counts. You might want to consider that most of the world, and most of history, has been populated by people who learned things in other ways.

So my advice is: a little more humility! Try it: you’ll like it. Stick to your strengths and acknowledge your weaknesses.

Your old friend Brian (74)

XX

Heatwave in the Cold North is out on 23 April.

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

letter to my younger self

I hope 8 year old me is proud of who I am today. I hope she laughs until her belly hurts when she listens to the story’s I would tell her. we are finally happy now, can you believe that? mom still smiles like she always used to do. please never give up. it will get better. keep on moving. you don’t know what’s going to happen yet, but I am proud of you. for living. for living despite of it all. and especially for not loosing your smile. laugh when you fail, you don’t have to be perfect all the time. never say sorry for being yourself. your feelings are valid, don’t hide them. talk about what happened. about everything. they will believe you. there is nothing wrong with your body. I love you. fooling yourself into thinking it never happened is the most effective way to never get over it. so speak. choose to speak as loud and as much as you can. you will be okay again. someday.

- e.f

[tearosewater]

I wish I could go back in time and tell you all about it.

You’re going to finish college. You changed your major, it suit you better.

You have a job where you get to roll out of bed at 8:50 AM and login in your PJs. You work in fraud and you’re really good at it. It’s not writing, or photography, or journalism, but you do best at those things in your spare time. 

You lived with your best friend for 4 years. She lives 20 minutes away now and you’re still best friends. You’re having sushi tomorrow.

Your other best friend died 2 years ago. So did your step-dad. You’ve been grieving a lot of things. 

You’re still with him. You love him dearly and he loves you. It’s been 12 years. 

You travel a lot. A couple times a year, at the very least. You see new places and try new things and actually have the money to enjoy it. 

Your mom is still your mom, but at least she doesn’t get under your skin as much anymore. 

Your little sister is one of your best friends. You did a good job raising her. 

You’re healthy. A lot of the ailments that disrupted your youth have dissipated, either through surgery or force of will. 

You still need to go to therapy, though.

But you’re not as volatile! Some might even call you calm now.

But you still cry a lot. That was never going to change. Yet its not the hours and hours of painful crying until you see the sun. You can’t remember the last time you did that.

You can’t remember the last time you intentionally hurt yourself.

You can’t remember the last time someone made you feel small, or insecure, or worthless. You don’t let them do that anymore.

You still write fanfiction, loser. Except not cause people actually like it and beg you for updates.

You’re okay. Go to bed.

[r3alisticreads]

What Will You Tell Your Younger Self?

Healing and self-forgiveness are essential when embracing self-love. Some people find it easier to release their emotions by forming a letter to their younger self.

This is a time to reflect and be open with yourself. You will be surprised how much there is to discover once you write your letter.

It is a self-exploration experience that you will find quite refreshing. What would you tell your younger self if you were to write a letter? You can start your self-reflection process with these journaling prompts.

[only-genius-wit-and-taste]

Written age 16:

Cruel Perfection

The sky is blue; birds are singing somewhere in the distance. I can feel the sun on my skin, pleasantly warm. For a moment I relax and let myself enjoy the perfection of the day.

Perfection. That’s what it is, isn’t it? Except, if it’s perfect, then why do I feel a prickle of unease? My whole body is relaxed, but only for a second. My muscles tense up again, braced against a threat I can’t see or feel or even give a name to.

Glancing around furtively, I try to identify what’s scaring me, but I can’t. Everything seems perfect. Seems. That’s the point, isn’t it? It seems perfect. But nothing can be perfect, can it? I search in vain for some cloud in the azure sky, some blemish on the beautiful trees that surround me, a single off-key note in the symphony of bird song. There is nothing.

That’s not possible though. Nothing is perfect. There must be a flaw somewhere. And then I realise. It’s me. I’m the flaw. A landscape like this deserves a stunning goddess with long, flowing hair and a gorgeous smile. I don’t belong here.

Why am I here, anyway? The thought hadn’t occurred to me before, but it does now. I’m not supposed to be here. I should be somewhere else, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t remember where. I just know it’s not here. In another landscape, against a different background, I would feel right, look right. Not perfect, just right.

Panic surges up inside me. I need to get out of here. I start to run. The heat, so gentle a moment ago, presses on my skin, stifling me. The branches around me don’t catch on my clothes – they’re too impeccably gentle and smooth to do that – but they slow me down as I push past, smothering me in a sea of emerald-green foliage. My movements become wilder and more frantic as I feel myself dragged back, drowning in an ocean of leaves to a soundtrack of birdsong.

And then I break free. I’m out of the trees and into a wide, green meadow. I don’t feel liberated though. If anything, this is worse. There’s too much space. The sky seems to stretch on and on into infinity. As I look up at it a terrible sense of dizziness overwhelms me, like I’m about to tip and fall into a great chasm that goes down and down into nothingness. Stifling a scream, I screw my eyes shut. The darkness feels safe, familiar.

When I open my eyes again, everything looks different. The previous sense of perfect equanimity has given way to a darker atmosphere. Not that there’s anything I could put my finger on, but it’s definitely there. The shadows between the trees are a little deeper; the sun’s light a little harsher. The trees feel closer, too. I’m standing right in the middle of the meadow, but it no longer seems so big. An icy breeze caresses my cheek. I shiver.

This isn’t real, I tell myself. It’s not where I belong. If I can just get through the forest, no matter how long it takes, there’ll be something better on the other side. Some place where I can feel safe. Somewhere so wonderful that all this will seem merely an inconsequential dream I had a long time ago.

Filled with a new sense of purpose, I stride off in what I’m almost positive is the right direction. I push past the branches, leaving them to bounce back into place behind me. I tell myself that I’m in control here. Nothing can hurt me. Trees can’s hurt me, and neither can the sun, or the shadows. I’m a human being. I’m significantly more intelligent than anything in this silly forest.

For a time, it works. I feel invincible, like nothing can touch me. But nothing can last forever. Gradually the old fear begins to seep through, finding the tiny gaps in my otherwise impenetrable armour. I start to tense up again, jumping at shadows and speeding up into a run. I have to get out before this all overwhelms me, but I know I won’t. It’s still too far, and the only way to get through is by moving calmly and slowly, one step at a time. I know that, but somehow I can’t make my body believe it. My legs push on, faster and faster and faster until I can’t run anymore and have to slide to the ground, leaning against a tree trunk and panting heavily.

As I begin to get my breath back, an idea comes to me. I don’t know if it’s triggered by the tree I’m leaning against, or if desperation drives me to finding some way to give myself hope. Getting slowly to my feet, I grab the lowest branch on the tree and pull myself up. The bark feels uneven beneath my fingers, the only rough, unrefined thing in this smooth, shiny world.

It’s not hard to reach the top of the tree. The branches are strong and evenly spaced, as though designed for exactly this purpose. When my head breaks through the canopy, a glorious view meets my eyes. The trees go on for a long way, but they do come to an end, and beyond them I can see mountains and hills and even – at the very edge of the horizon – the glint of the sea. It’s breathtaking, and I know that if I can reach it everything will be alright. Better than alright. Wonderful. Beautiful. Challenging, but incredible. Not perfect, though. Never perfect.

Buoyed up by hope, I slide back down the tree, but the moment I reach the bottom my bubble bursts. I had hoped this vision would give me the strength to carry on, but all it has done is emphasised the unbearable situation I am in now. This will end, I tell myself; this will all be over soon. It doesn’t work anymore though. Because what if it’s not my surroundings that are suppressing me? What if it’s me? What if this really is perfect, and all the darkness is inside my head?

This thought, more than any other, terrifies me. I can run away from the forest and the trees and my shadows, but I can’t run away from myself. I’ll take the darkness with me wherever I go. It doesn’t matter how ideal my surroundings are if it’s me that’s ruining them. I can never run fast enough to escape myself, never get away. I’m trapped, truly trapped, forever.

The terror overwhelms me again and I sink to the ground, sobbing. Perhaps it’s not in my head. Perhaps there really is something better waiting for me. What does that matter, though, if I can never reach it? I’m trapped by my own fear, stuck in this place where everything is perfect and nothing is right. And yet somehow I can’t quite remember what’s wrong. I look around, taking in my surroundings.

The sky is blue; birds are singing somewhere in the distance. I can feel the sun on my skin, pleasantly warm. For a moment I relax and let myself enjoy the perfection of the day.

Perfection.

Written age 26:

Letter to the girl in the woods

The view is clear from up here and I can see you. You don’t think that anyone can see you. You feel a thousand eyes on you, invisible eyes, hidden in the shadows. But you don’t really believe that anyone sees you. I do.

The view is clear from up here and you are obviously going in the wrong direction. Obvious to me but not to you, down in the midst of the trees. You’re walking right towards a dead end, which is good because otherwise you’d go much further before you realised it was the wrong way, but you’re about to be very frustrated. You don’t realise until you’ve walked right up to it and there’s absolutely nowhere else to go. Even so, you stand and stare for a few minutes as though you might be able to find a way through. Then you give up and trudge back the way you came. You end up looping back round onto a much older path, and now you’re back in the same place you’ve been four times already. You tackle it differently this time, though. Instead of walking down the same well-worn path as before, you cut through a tiny gap between two trees and pick out a narrow trail you’ve never tried before. It’s one of those meandering paths that fades in and out so often it’s hard to be sure if it really is a path, but you follow it without hesitation. Apparently there was something in that dead end that you needed to see.

The view is clear from up here but down there it is raining. You have finally cleared the forest, just in time to be caught in this downpour, without a protective canopy to shield you. You don’t even waste a second glancing back towards the trees. Instead, you toss back your hair and tilt your face upwards into the rain. Raindrops splatter on your cheeks like tears and you tilt your face even higher, up towards the clouds, up towards me. I can’t resist jumping up and down and waving my arms at you, and for a moment I think you catch a glimpse of me. Then you fix your eyes firmly on your feet again. The path is slippery and you have to focus.

The view is clear from up here but you look so tiny. You are standing right at the foot of the mountain now and it must look enormous. Many might say that a stroll through the woods sounds much easier than a long, punishing trek up steep and unforgiving slopes, but you and I both know that the foot of a mountain is a better place to be than a forest. You are tiny but you take your first step.

The view is clear from up here and I can see you getting closer. You have to fight for every inch, but you are getting closer. The path is uneven and rocky, but you are getting closer. In some places you have to haul yourself up with your hands, but you are getting closer.

The view is clear from up here and you are almost here with me. The last stretch is the most difficult, but you are surefooted and swift now. You know when to test your weight carefully on a loose rock, when to lean all your weight into a strong upward push, when to pause and brace yourself against gusts of wind that threaten to knock you off your feet. You push and pull against the mountain’s challenges like a dancer following the lead of their partner’s music. I will reach out a hand to pull you up the last few steps, and we will stand triumphant together.

The fog is rolling in now and the view ahead is not clear. We will have to tread carefully on the way down. I am not quite sure of the path, and we may slip if we go too fast. But we will go hand in hand, and I think we’ll be okay.

[skin-bible]

NEWS TO THE YOUTH:

IT TURNS OUT YES, YOU DO GET BOLDER WITH AGE

You will finally learn to not be treated like shit. You will dream of a tranquil life, like getting drunk in Denmark, or living by the lake/seaside.

You will learn to finally stand up for yourself

If shits the pits hit da bricks!!!

[dougwallen]

"Letter to My Younger Self" interview with Ben Lee for The Big Issue Australia

[twina1993]

A TikTok Letter to my younger self that I’ve recently posted. I was so nervous about even posting this even though it was a slideshow because I was so scared of what people in my hometown would say. I’ve also had did some blog posts on my blog site that I’ve had since my first year of college. Now I can’t wait to post more on there whether if it’s behind the scenes of my short films, photography projects and more.