Dear myself

Dear myself,

I don’t know if this letter will ever reach you. Some days I can only hope. Other days, I can only laugh at the very idea. If you are still around, will you have a good story to share? A good excuse for your depression? Because I don’t. All I can offer is tiny pieces of a picture so big it’s nearly invisible.

Remember the little girl who used to laugh and sing. She knew no real pain, no real evil. That’s when life was about sun, wind, trees and beauty. Everything was perfect in her world. I still remember she was the happiest kid alive. She had no real friends but she didn’t care. She had books, songs, plushie toys. She had her family, some nice people at school who would sometimes accept to play with her. And she had the wind and the sun. The whole world. She was so alive.

To this day, I refuse to believe that she is the same person as this quiet 14 years old, hiding in her closet so that she wouldn’t have to go to school. When she understood people could be mean for reasons she did not understand. Because she liked to read, because she enjoyed jazz, because her mother still chose her clothes. She could have gotten over it. She could have healed in time. Isn’t that normal teenager drama? Not to her. The truth is she was weak. She was so weak, their words, their laughter poisoned her. Maybe forever. Thankfully, she had the best parents. They got her help.

If only she had been brave. She would have told everything to her psychologist. She would have been able to be honest instead of just trying to sound like a good person who doesn’t want to say too much. She started to lie so that she would seem like a nice girl. And she never stopped. Maybe, getting angry, giving a few punches would have changed it all. But she started to cry. To run away and to hide. She would hide and cry, asking why they hated her. And then she would blame herself for willingly being a victim. Because it was easier. Easier to hide, cry and do nothing about it. This way, she was safe, she did not risk anything. People would still hate her and she would still be a victim. She couldn’t hate them and she started hating herself. The more guilt she felt, the more she cried. The more she cried, the more she became lonely, weak, unable to face the world. The weaker she felt, the more she hated herself. An endless vicious circle.

Thankfully, high school was better. She made friends, got some hobbies. She met other people a bit more like her. The sharp pain in the back of her head would not be as strong. So what happened?

When did I start running away again? I don’t have a sob story. I’m surrounded with family and friends who only wish to help me. What is this lurking shadow in the mirror? When I was 14, I never thought of ending my life. Why now?

Look at you. All you can do is pity yourself, cry, blame yourself and cry some more. A friend said you shouldn’t be so helpless since you didn’t have a hard life. And it’s true. You have no good reason to be falling. So why can’t you just get up and go meet the sun again? What is this thing inside you that knows what has to be done, what should be done to get better, and yet, refuses to do it? Why do you keep destroying your own life, day after day? Why do you hide in the darkness, hoping you will cease to exist or the whole world around you will disappear? Stop playing the victim, you have nothing to cry for.

Dear myself,

When I look in the mirror, I see a coward, so deep in her maze of guilt and sorrow. I see sadness and self-hatred. She still can’t hate other people. She still breaks down for the smallest thing. She still spends her time thinking about herself, how lost and broken she is. And she spends her time hating herself for always being so self-centered. Wouldn’t you despise her? I sure do.

I see a pain nothing can heal because no one understands it, not even herself. I see her slowly fading, sinking, fighting less and less. She chose to love people but you can’t love everyone.

If you are still around, I have to warn you. Don’t believe her. She’s selfish, crazy, hopeless. She lies and she is not a good person. Still… I hope you will be able not to hate what she is right now. That would be a great victory. The day I stop hating the teenager in the mirror and start liking the young adult she became. The day I accept they are all the same person. The day I can tell her ‘I’m sorry. I love you.’