Last year you wrote to your 17 year old self. You didn’t think you’d follow it up.
Or if you were to follow it up, I don’t think you anticipated that you’d have something equally significant to say within 365 days.
The world is crazy and so are you, so please let me fill you in.
19/20 year old me.
I can still feel exactly what you felt that day when you confronted that person and found out the truth.
I can still feel the numbness, the shock, the hollow feeling in my throat.
But I have to think back and actively try to remember it in order to feel it.
That was single handedly the most impactful moment of your life so far.
Because it wasn’t just the end of a story you told yourself.
It was the end of you lying to yourself, pretending you were okay, listening to other peoples voices in your head.
It was the end of you pretending you weren’t hurt by life.
It was the birth of me.
It feels like hell on earth and you don’t even know why.
But one thing you come to learn is that you don’t have to analyse the every move of the stars to remain connected and guided by them.
Just wait and see how everything falls into place.
The age of aquarius actually comes in. I’m writing to you in the middle of a global pandemic.
The world gets so weird that you are able to thrive in it.
And just you WAIT to see how the timing of it is so perfect.
If I were you living through this…
That’s just like, not a possible thing to happen.
It all happened exactly as it had to.
We are not the same.
You see, Becky;
Your blogs are shite.
Your instagram posts are pushy.
Your work is inner turmoil being projected onto an audience.
And you don’t do much.
You’re not going anywhere by deluding yourself into thinking you’re saying something that matters.
You know what does matter?
All the pain you have ever felt in your life up to this moment.
Abandonment, rejection, isolation, insecurity, confusion, emptiness.
More specifically, what matters is how you heal from it and become me.
Someone who genuinely thanks the past, and loves it, and knows that I would not have all that I have if it weren’t for the stories it gave me.
What you feel is SO raw that it gives you power to create.
And you help people.
Just show people the rawness. Show people that you’re a human.
You’re going to begin take off.
I am now beginning to take off.
I know you still look back over your shoulder and concentrate on what those other people are doing. And you cry a little.
More than anything it’s because you wonder if you will ever love again.
For a while you think that love is some type of sickness. You think it’s an attachment issue.
But you meet someone who teaches you an awful lot about life and the world.
And she teaches you how to be with people.
You can’t lose someone if you don’t mind losing them.
Because you will always be okay.
And after you meet her, you meet your next boyfriend.
And guess what?
There’s literally nothing wrong with him.
He’s a rational, kind human.
And you’re both independent.
And it works.
You do love again, genuinely this time. It feels better than that ever did.
He’s actually like, incredibly nice to me.
And guess what?
I let him. I actually like it.
And you feel no part of you that ever wants to go back to anybody else.
Because you’re not constantly worried about it coming to an end, it doesn’t. You can just enjoy it.
So now you’re working on the next things.
You’re saving up for a course in hypnotherapy.
You’re making art to sell.
And in about 5 months you’ll be moving across the country.
If you could see the blogs you’ve written over the last year you’d be so amazed and comforted.
We learn so much.
There’s so much you get up to, honestly- and some of the hilarious stories I’m able to tell about you come from you being in a bad place with a case of the fuck its.
I know that there’s probably nothing I can say to comfort you.
But thank you for playing the game.
You’re so funny.
We’re turning out okay.
I love you.