Tag: letters

Dear Babygirl,

I wish I could tell you that everything worked out the way you thought it would, but it didn’t. It worked out the way it was supposed to, like life always does. It takes a long time for you to learn that.

You work your ass off when it comes to your dreams. You persevere despite all of the odds stacked against you. You laugh. You cry. You love. Sometimes harder than you should. Love is never lost. It always comes back to you. Like energy recycled, and always bigger, brighter, and better than before.

People come, go, and some even stay. You spend a long time searching for some kind of reciprocation from people. Something more. But you find it in yourself. Your heart breaks. You actually break a few hearts yourself. You’re a rock for a lot of people. People don’t know how to handle the funny and strong girl going through a hard time. You become your own rock. More like a crystal. Shining through all of the cracks.

Are you ready for this one? Your mom is your best friend. Crazy, right? But she has always been the string that holds everything together. And when you’re thirteen, your mom gives birth to a healthy baby boy. And everything changes. Life can never be called dull again. Your heart expands and then there’s this boy who looks like you and your mom, and your dad all mixed together with long limbs and a loud voice and a personality of his own. He sighs and rolls his eyes when you tell him about life and all of your childhood photos look like his and you don’t really know where he ends and you begin.

You encounter many people who want to numb pain. So, they have sex with anyone, they get high, they get drunk, anything to not feel. But you feel your way through everything. Even when the pain is so great that it takes your breath away, you warrior your way through it. You spend so much time worrying and being scared and everything always comes out okay, you make sure of it.

You never let a man define who you are. You read thousands of books. You get lost in the words and found again. You place a lot of importance on being smart and not society’s version of what is beautiful. You come into your own. Your happy place is any ghost town or small city.

You learn that your voice and feelings are important and valid. And somewhere along the way, you fall in love with yourself.

I know you’re not going to believe me, but trust me.

I’m writing from the future.

We did okay, kid.

I love you the most.

–S.

I Hope You Get My Letter.

An excerpt from a letter that I wrote years ago to my then best-friend who went into the Air Force.

First and foremost, I am a writer. I think that my best writing comes from the darkest of places, and sometimes I have dry periods where I am not motivated to write any words. It has taken me a long while to share anything because rarely do people care about one another on that deep of a level.

Sometimes you don’t even want to heart your own voice. Not because I have been depressed or anything. I’m okay. I’m good. You just get tired of it – as with all things. The day is July 8th and the time is 1:31 am. Like the summer nights that have come before this one – I can never go to sleep before three or four in the morning.

My apologies. I feel that we left things in such an awkward place that sometimes I think – will we ever come back from that? I know that you have bigger things going on in your life and it doesn’t really compare to what friendships are going to survive or not. That’s how we are, I know. You’re with me or you’re not. But I also know that sometimes we have to swallow our pride, a million times over, and just speak.

So, here I am.

I’d like to tell you about myself. If you ever start feeling like you’re in a prison – I hope these words help you find a way out in your mind. I hope you find it in your heart to smile while reading my words and maybe even laugh.

Lord knows we need all the laughter we can get,

but I’ll probably be doing a lot of crying.

–S.

Beginning Again.

An excerpt from a letter that I wrote years ago to my then best-friend who went into the Air Force.

I asked your mom for your address a week ago, and then nothing. Because a part of me doesn’t know what to say to you. I don’t want to say anything. Another part of me wants to tell you everything that has happened since I turned twenty-three. I want to be your friend.

For a really long time now, probably ever since you left, I’ve been angry with you. I think we’ve done a shit job of keeping our friendship alive. I know that I’ve been a shitty friend, holding on by a thread.

I’m a hard person to love. You’re a hard person to love too.

But I also know that you’re currently doing one of the hardest things you’ve ever done in your life.

I know that you’re scared. I know that you are lonely. I know that you are determined, and that you have that mean mug on. That someone forces you to be a morning person every single day. I know that you miss downloading music. I know that you want to watch One Tree Hill. I know these things. I know that you would never admit them. I know that for even five minutes, it probably feels good to hear from an old friend.

I told my cousin that I didn’t feel very close to you, and that I didn’t know the words to say. She said to just talk. About life. To be a friend – because we all need a friend. We all just want to talk and know that someone cares. Even us, those people who have spent a lifetime shutting everyone out. Because no one measures up, right? Wrong.

It turns out that we are not supposed to measure up to anything. We are just supposed to be human.

–S.