Dear You: A Letter to Myself

Remember that one writing project you started — The ‘Dear You’ series? Remember how you kept it anonymous, but always had someone in mind while writing it? Well, this one is a little more open, transparent for the world to see. I want everyone in the world to see that this letter, right here, this one is to you. So here goes.

I understand that life is difficult; perhaps more so than usual. I understand that you are lonely; perhaps more so than usual. I understand. Take a step back every now and then. Remember to breathe. Remember that you are human, so it is only natural that you make mistakes, that you stumble and fall, that there are days you will be bruised black and blue all over. But I want you to get back up. I want you to continue moving forward.

I am not going to say people are going to miss you. I am not going to say how the world needs you. I will, however, say that there is a shirt that is perfect for you, waiting to be worn to sleep. A movie that you need to watch, a movie that you will love and play a million times over. You will memorize every single line of this movie, embody the characters, look up every meme and laugh. And you will laugh. That laughter will fill the whole room. It will shake the walls of the apartment, or bedroom, or bedroom in the apartment. Then there’s that one project you’ve been pouring over for a long time now. Reworking over and over again, until it is as close to perfection as possible. But let me tell you one thing: it doesn’t need to be perfect. It doesn’t need to be elegantly wrapped in a bow for people to appreciate it.

So what I want you to do now is cry. Cry like there’s no tomorrow. Cry as if no one is watching (this is probably the case, but if there is someone next to you, cry anyways). You’ve put on a good act of being okay. You would probably win an Oscar faster than Leonard DiCaprio. But that’s not something you should be proud of — do not revel in that. Revel in the act of letting go, in the removal of a weight that’s been on your shoulders for far too long. After acknowledging, accepting, and outwardly portraying how you’ve felt inside, wipe up those tears. Do not act as if it did not happen, because it did. But act knowing that you are now a clean slate. Move as if you are a child beginning to run, unafraid of the consequences of falling.

I think that’s why God wanted us to enter heaven child-like — because we are unafraid to fall. You’ve done well so far and I can’t wait to see what you accomplish next. I love you, I hope you know that. And if no one has told you yet, thank you for being alive today. I mean it.

Sincerely,
Me

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