Dear six your old me,
I stumbled across an old picture of you today. Gosh you were happy. The world hadn’t pointed out all your flaws yet and you weren’t insecure. You were just happy. Looking at you makes me wonder when did it change. When did I lose the sparkle in my eyes and the optimist perspective that everything would be okay? When did I turn into this self-loathing person whose demons haunt her at night? I never want to lose you; I never wanted the darkness of the pain to become the only thing you see. I’m sorry this isn’t the life we planned. But the life we planned was never possible my love. As we got older I tried so hard to become more than what we were raised to be, more than her and more than that place. In some ways we are more than where we were raised. But in other ways DNA has caught up to us and now your gone and I am more like her than I would like to admit. I’m so sorry young me that you fought so hard to never be like her and I got tired and didn’t want to fight so I gave in. But wasn’t she always in our DNA so it was going to happen? Right? Or is that what I’m simply telling myself so I don’t have to take responsibility for this shit that is life.
Six-year-old me there was no way for you to see this coming. There was no way you could have known that as you got older no one would be there to protect you from her and from the world. I’m sorry that the darkness filled your eyes and now it’s all I can ever see. But seeing your picture also reminded me that I or we are fighters. You survived so that I could be here, so now it’s my turn to survive sot that the next and better version of both of us can be born and carry on this journey for us. It won’t be easy but we can make it. You see we’ve never had many friends but we’ve always had some sort of support and with that we will be okay. Any time I feel like giving up. I will look at you and know that giving up isn’t an option.
I Love you… forever and always