a letter to my thirteen-year-old self

I’ve never been very good at goodbyes, catching that last ray of sun from your eyes, for you were a star, a star from inside, a mirror in your chest reflecting your light. You often mistook said mirror for your reflection, but darling, you are more than what you let the world see, for to shine as you do, you must first burn from within.

Are stars white dots, blue, magenta, or green? Or do you contain multitudes presented as one, a flickering diamond that cannot decide on one reflection, one side of a story told through one perspective? You gather allies alongside alibi’s to feel satisfied in your arguments, in your life, but you’ve never really felt alive at all.

You dance on the surface of water as if wars don’t exist and injustice is a theoretical concept, for you know if you let yourself feel their weight, they’ll take you under, and you’ve never been a very good swimmer. Still you love the water, how could you not? You’re human, after all, we’ve been sailing the seas for centuries, you know this, and you feel connected to it all, to the water and the waves, to the storms you brave, every day. Yes, I see you, sweet girl, I do.

You attempt to hide your imperfections and therefore make yourself imperfect, add water to sand and it won’t ever be the same again. Or so you think, until you wait, and give it time, yes, time, the magic recipe, crestfallen in a sea of generations, it’ll make itself known, at the right time, and then the sun will warm the mud you unintentionally created and the sand will be sand once more. You can be you, sweet girl, she’s somewhere in there, I know.

My advice to you is to forgive yourself, for being unable to be you unapologetically, for hiding in sirens, not daring to ask for help until it’s too late. You are trying, and that matters, you matter, more than you know.

Dearest, please take care of yourself.

With love, Ella