A Sorry Letter To Myself, Though That “Me” Doesn’t Exist Anymore

sexta-feira, março 04, 2016

A Sorry Letter To Myself, Though That “Me” Doesn’t Exist Anymore

Hey Me,

I am sorry you were so afraid, so startled and so alone.

I am sorry I wasn’t strong enough to stand behind you when you really needed to believe. I am really sorry for not supporting you to be anything you wanted to be. No person should ever be left alone in the desperation of solitude. But you were, and I want to remind you something.

When you were told that writing was a hobby, you secretly whispered ‘no’. When they didn’t allow you to study a degree in Arts, you didn’t give in and kept practicing. When the struggles like depression and asxiety appeared, you never stop fighting. When people scared you saying ‘it is tough’, ‘it requires a lot of work’, ‘you are going to starve with no income,’ you didn’t listen to their words.

Thank you for standing strong for both of us, even if there were times where they bent your will and crushed your hopes; when there was times where striving seemed pointless. Thank you, because without you there would be no me today.

I am just sorry you had to endure it all on your own and that it took me so long, more than a decade, to realize it was all worth it. Yes, the tears and the depression and the doubts… All was worth it to be here today.

But the painful truth is that deep down each single word others said yielded your spirit. You tried to not let them see you down even if you were broken and bleeding inside. But it did get to you.

I am sorry you had to do it alone. But I couldn’t be more proud of you, little girl. Because when nobody, not a single person, encouraged you to pursue your dream, our dream, you refused to believe they were right no matter how much you wanted to scream it out loud.

Looking back, it still hurt.

I know how many times you felt desperate, running away in to the darkness. I know how many times you wanted to abandon and admit it was useless. I remember each single time you felt hopelessly worthless, crying yourself to sleep because the world didn’t wanted to see how great you could be.

I know because I was there, and your pain has been my pain. And your fears are my fears today.

And your bravery, my child, that bravery is my drive today.

The truth is: it is not over. I am a writer today but people still saying I should just bail and live a comfortable, dull life. It makes me fearful and doubtful; what if they are right after all? Should I just quit? Is it too late to stop challenging myself?

But thanks to you I refuse to believe them.

I refuse to listen for my own sake but also for your memory: because deep down, even in your worst hour, you didn’t yield. Not completely. You found your path, which is also mine, and you raced against the odds and storms.

You didn’t admit a defeat.

I am sorry that I was weak, a fool and too afraid to stand behind our dreams. That is why I have gathered my entire valor and my gratitude, and commit myself to the labor of never, ever surrender.

You deserve more and I will dare the impossible to make it happen.

Even if who you were does no longer exist, within me there will always live a little girl, too scared to say aloud ‘I am a writer.’

I will say it for you: I am a writer. I didn’t give up on my dream. And I will never let you down again.

And you, dear reader, you shouldn’t either.

Featured photo credit: Doug Robichaud via unsplash.com

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