#i just am so curious of why they unfollowed like what was the last straw that lead them to go oh god okay i’m done seeing this mf post—

[hellfireeddiemunson]

trying to figure out if i keep losing followers bc they don’t like how much i post tlou in general or if they just don’t like abby

[j2badwolfclevergirl]

Dear you,

I know today isn't actually my birthday, but it's still close enough that it doesn't feel wrong to write this.

I remember the last time I wrote a letter to myself was when I was eighteen. Wow. That was four years ago now. Hey. It's me. You.

You were such a different person back then.

Still raw and broken, trying to find something, anything to hang onto. Your life was falling apart.

Friends were growing up and leaving. You were growing up and it fucking terrified you. You were so scared and insecure that you closed in on yourself, all long sleeves and sweaters. You couldn't bare your arms because all your pain was written on them.

You were losing your religion, your faith.

You had no fucking clue who you were or what you wanted. Well, you thought you knew what you wanted but now you're not as sure.

Do you remember those walks on the beach with Evan, how happy and yet how miserable you were?

You remember thinking "these are the memories I'll treasure."

And you were right. But you were also wrong.

Because those memories couldn't compare to some of the ones that came later.

You, at eighteen, would never have even imagined who you would become.

At nineteen, things finally started to heal. You cut off all your hair and you fucking loved it. You left religion in your rearview with all the trauma it had caused you. Ok, maybe not all of it. Some of it you still carry deep in your chest and you're still trying to pry all the sharp-edged, heavy pieces out.

You went to England, for a whole month all by yourself. You literally got on an international plane and flew for seven hours and were awake for almost twenty four hours straight and then

you were there. In England.

That "someday" dream actually became a reality. You got to see Shakespeare's birthplace and visit Jane Austen's house.

You went out to a pub for the first time and drank for the first time. You even got kinda drunk. You tried a hand-rolled cigarette. You felt free and a little terrified by it.

You went for walks by that river, beautiful and a little haunting.

You were pretty lonely for most of that month, but you don't really regret a second of it.

It showed you that you were capable of so much more than you thought and that maybe some of your dreams could acutally come true.

Then you started college. For real this time. Moving away from home, leaving behind your remaining two friends and your dear, crazy family.

You remember how scared you were that drive down? How you had your headphones on and were trying to drown out the frantic voices in your head, the twisting vines in your chest and stomach? How your fingers kept knotting in your lap as you tried to wring the anxiety out of them?

Remember that first night in the dorm room? Scared but also kind of excited. College was a place to start fresh, to try and figure out who you were now.

That first semester was a bit of a mixed bag. You made some friends but being around them made you anxious, insecure. Casper died and you cried more than you thought you would.

And then there was that night with your friends, playing drinking games and drinking wine out of a red solo cup with a twisty straw. They went out to smoke and you thought, "Why not?" And then you came inside and everything shattered. You were on the floor, in someone's lap, crying and trying to breathe. You couldn't stop saying sorry. Four and a half hours you just kept gasping "sorry" over and over and over, begging for forgiveness for being weak, being a burden, for ruining everyone's night. And that was the night everything started to crack again.

The long sleeves came back. It got hard to breathe more often. You couldn't spend time with your friends because your brain wouldn't shut up about how they didn't really like you, how you were a burden, how they judged you for being weak, how they wouldn't miss you and how they would even be better off without you. And so you hid. You stopped going to dinner. You unfollowed and avoided. You cut them off and shut them out because you couldn't make the voices stop. You started to break again.

But then summer came and it was almost a relief. Home was the same, except it wasn't. The twins had started to get boobs, James was in high school and everyone was fucking growing still. It felt good to be home but it was also hard to see that everything had continued while you were gone, that your little siblings were growing up when you weren't there to see.

The second year was a little better, a little easier. I honestly don't remember much of it off the top of my head. You started to tentatively make some new friends. Just aquaintence level really but it was a start. You kept learning, kept struggling a bit but you didn't break again.

You had your first kiss at 20 years old with the first girl you ever liked. Oh yeah, that's right. Somewhere before college you figured out you liked girls. In fact, you really like girls. It was scary and, like the nerd you are, you turned to google. You spent hours researching, taking quizes like

"am i gay?"

"is it a crush or a girl crush?"

"do i really like her?"

You watched dozens and dozens of videos just trying to get used to two girls kissing. You imagined what it would be like to kiss a girl. And you didn't hate the idea.

It took months before you decided you were bi. You didn't tell anyone for a long time. But when you did, no one made it a big deal. But you couldn't tell Gammy. You still haven't told Gammy. You're too scared. You don't think your relationship with her will survive.

You also went on your first date at 20. It went ok but she told you she wasn't interested after the second date. That seems to be your lot. You still haven't made it past the second date.

21 was when things really started to get better. You made some real new friends. They aren't perfect and sometimes you still struggle with insecurity but you're learning that it's ok and that often they are just as nervous and insecure as you.

You could finally legally drink! The first time you go to the liquor store they don't even card you and you think it's pretty funny.

You started trying to love yourself. It wasn't easy. It still isn't. You also started to let loose, take more risks, try to go with the flow a little more. You went on more dates but nothing ever panned out. You also started smoking weed. You really fucking love weed now.

You spent more time with Emma and found out you actually have a lot in common. She became your fun-friend, the friend who would drink with you on a weekday, smoke with you when-fucking-ever and who encouraged you to let loose. You were each other's cheerleader and each other's encouragement to live like the young 20 year olds you were. Remember that night you went out drinking on a Wednesday afternoon before class? You had drinks and then two shots. I don't think anyone noticed though. Two weeks later, you were back at the bar before class again and you both split a pitcher of mimosas in celebration of the ending semester. Those were two of the best nights you ever had. But they weren't nearly as fun as the days you would go over to Emma's apartment to "study." Those afternoons and evenings spent drinking, smoking and talking. Sometimes playing a game, sometimes watching a TV show, but always having so much fun.

Now, here you are. 22 years old. Four years ago, you were on suicide watch and feeling like life would never get any better. Now, you're thinking about teaching abroad after you graduate.

You still aren't in a relationship but for the first time in your life, you are genuinely okay with that.

You don't have a lot of friends but the ones you have you wouldn't trade for anyone else.

You're still trying to find the balance between responsibility and living life to the fullest but you're getting better at it everyday.

You also started practicing witchcraft, which is kinda cool.

You feel more confident in yourself and you are having fun experimenting with your style.

You shaved your head and it makes you look kinda badass. (It is also so much easier to deal with and let's be honest that is really why you love it.)

You smile so much more than you used to. You laugh more and cry a little easier. You're finally starting to let yourself really feel again. You're trying not to be so afraid of feeling, trying to stop numbing yourself when you feel overwhelmed. You're trying to sit with your emotions more and let them pass rather than ignoring them because you're scared you'll fall back into the dark place. You're growing.

You have changed so much.

You still think being an adult sucks, but you're starting to notice and take advantage of more of the perks

You have transformed from a scared, broken, bleeding teen into a confident, curious, and free-spirited adult.

The future isn't as scary now. I mean, there are definitely still days where it terrifies you and your chest aches for everything you've lost with time. There are still days where you relive a memory and long to go back to when things were simpler.

But there are also days where you remember that the future promises more of those good times and memories.

You're doing what makes you happy more. You're letting yourself be happy without guilt.

You're finding the pleasure and joy where you can and learning to enjoy it as it washes over you, instead of trying to grab it and hold on.

You're letting yourself make mistakes and trying not to feel as embarrassed or ashamed of them as you used to.

I am so proud of you. I am so proud of who you're still becoming, of who you won't ever stop becoming.

Keep growing, keep learning, keep taking risks and making mistakes.

Be brave.

Be curious.

Be tender.

Because you're alive and that's all that matters.

Love,

You at 22