It all started with a decision. I wanted to be free.
I leaped for my desk and fumbled around trying to find my journal, the book which held so much of my pain within its pages. Ready again for words that lay dormant within me to erupt and purge out in a flurry on to the old, slightly yellowing paper. But this time, it would be different. I wasn’t going unleash negativity disguised deep within cryptic poetry. This time, I was excited, feeling elevated, I knew that the words would have a new purpose.
They would be addressed directly to me.
An intense rush of freedom surged through my body as my pen danced and curled its way across the page the way it always has.
I remember that first letter like it was yesterday. Even after all these years, the powerful words remain etched into my mind so vividly. I wrote to my past self, the younger me. The girl with the barefoot childhood, big wide trusting eyes and bouncy blonde locks. She was seven then. I wrote about endless crossroads I would come to, and how, whatever the decision I made, that everything would be okay. It wouldn’t be so bad moving from the beach to the city because in the end, the sea would always be a part of me and I would eventually return to the shores once more. Then I spoke to the teenager who fell so far back into a shell that never before existed, she almost lost her self entirely. I told myself that it was okay to be upset about the mean girls at school, but also that I shouldn’t worry because karma comes into play and it’s a very beautiful thing. Keep your chin up. Everything will be okay.
Then, the young woman. The one who was scarred from falling so deeply and desperately in love with the ruggedly handsome bad boy, the first love that rocked her to the core. The intensity of the dynamic between them over those three passionate years she would never encounter again, but that’s okay because love shouldn’t be despairing like that anyways. I forgave that girl for the mistakes she’d made, for making decisions blindly out of love that she knew would hurt her, but in the future, I’d be happy that I’d made them anyway… Everything will be okay.
In that hour or so I spent writing, I laughed and I cried. Nostalgia enveloped me tightly, while in the same moment the grip that past-pain held over me loosened as I felt an overwhelming sense of closure wash over my body. Emotional clutter that took up so much space within me escaped out onto the pages, freeing up so much energy giving me an undying sense of clarity. I was excited for the future ahead.
So, I wrote a letter to future me. Whatever she is doing, whatever she is going through, I wanted to let her know that she is loved, and that everything will be okay.
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