A letter to the girl who gets blackout every weekend

Hello stranger. It’s you from the future speaking.

I was just watching one of the video’s I used to cry to all the time when I used to be you. The video of the Cyr Wheel Dancer, Angelica Bongiovonni. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?

I think I owe you an apology, and I want to be friends.

In the last few years, I admit, I’ve tried to forget you, and cover you up, and shame you, and pretend that you don’t exist. But it’s just because it’s really difficult trying to do things differently this time.

I admire the way you try to get through everything you go through, despite no one really knowing what’s happened or what is going on, or even who you are. I admire the way you never lose sight of what the future could be. I admire the accountability you take for every single one of your actions. You are so resilient, and in an unvoiced way, I am proud of you.

I haven’t been very nice to you. But I really should be, because without you I wouldn’t be who I am now.

You are doing the best you can with what you have. And though you make mistakes, and ask for help in explosive and ineffective language, you are loveable. You are loved. And I see you.

I see why you always take it too far. I see why you have a sizeable string of cringey and regrettable stories, and I see why you got yourself into those entanglements. I see why you lose your temper.

I love you anyway. And in all of your darkness and chaos and reasons to think you’re unlovable, I love you. You are just as light as you are dark.

I’m sorry that you don’t have anyone who can see you.

I’m sorry that you feel like you’re always acting, and beneath the surface, wondering why you’re not enough for someone to pay you attention.

Eventually, I become that person for you.

In complete honesty, I still look back and say, ‘I wish you had a friend that wasn’t me’.

I still think that the world was quite cruel to have put you through that all on your own, and I don’t want to try and throw glitter on that and tell you that it was all for a reason.

We both have faith that things all happen as they are meant to though, I’m sure.

I’m not here to give you a lecture on what a bad job you’re doing. I told you, you’re doing the best with what you have. Keep doing the things you’re doing.

Keep following what feels like it connects you to the rest of humanity, and eventually, you become able to distinguish between what feels good, and what feels good until it feels really bad.

In a process of elimination, you’ll end up where you need to be.

Eventually, you will find someone who sees you.

And they will help you see you in all your glory.

And then they will help you build, and heal, and meet someone else who can see you in all your glory. Not just see you but accept you. Love you, even. Stand by you.

When you learn what it means to be truly seen and connected to people, you can start to let go of those vices that bridged the gap.

I’m not going to pretend its not lonely.

It is. And it’s not a smooth ride either.

You’ll relapse, lose your head, get sick, fall out with people, lose friends.

I’m left with a half built home in a pit that you left. But I appreciate you for burning that old dusty tower to the ground.

Your body knows what it’s doing. As does your soul.

And piece by piece, I’m getting us back on our feet.

I guess you must be here with me, but I can’t feel you anymore. I think that’s why this whole thing feels so lonely.

You’re the only person who knew everything. And now you’re gone.

I miss you, but I’m glad you’re gone.

We are going to be okay.

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