Stole the outline of this from a Tumblr post; but these are all my words so I think it should be fine.
Dear Past Self,
You grew up in a small home in a small city with two perfect parents and a white picket fence. You remember running through hallways in bunny pajamas. Winnie the Pooh painted on your walls. And pink fuzzy slippers.
You were so small you saw your whole world through a telescope and in this narrowed vision you were living the American dream.
When you were 8 years old you rode the bus to school. You were more shy then some of the other kids but you wern’t always like that. School was beginning to oppress you. And you didn’t know that at the time you just slowly felt your world becoming more and more grey and gloomy.
When you were 9 some boy in the P.E. gym called you a “faggot” And you didn’t know what that ment so you said “thank you.”
By 10 you had made so many friends and sleepovers were your entire life. Every weekend was spent over at someone’s house and you didn’t think once about home. You almost always got into mild trouble. Enjoyed creating bon fires, shooting guns and going camping.
When you were 13 you *almost* ran away with your best friend. Anything to escape the real world…or so we thought. We got grounded. And spent a long time doing nothing. You comtemplated why you wanted to do it in the first place. After all it wasn’t your idea. You just wanted to escape.
Your Family moved to the beach because of your Dad’s work. 5 hours away from where you used to live. 5 hours from friends. 5 hours from everything you’d grown so fondly of. And you liked it there, even though it was lonely. You walked along white sand beaches because this was just a different version of the American Dream and it was okay to have different versions of the American Dream.
When you were 14 you moved states and your family moved in with a family friend. You were older now and you were starting to understand this wasn’t quite the American Dream you’d pictured in your head. The fights between your mom and her friend; your mom and your dad. And and everyone else in the house seemed like small echoes and depression reminisced within the walls. You felt unsafe.
When you were 15 you had moved again and you fell in love. Wildly and unexpectedly. Everything he did was perfect from the way he looked at you to the way he moved. And by 16 you knew you were going to be married to this boy because that’s what made sense. You slept with him. You told him secrets. You unraveled yourself for this being and he didn’t always return the favor… In fact… he spent most his time unraveling other girls hearts and clothes….And after a few years you fell apart. There was nothing left to pick up from anymore and the nostalgia of happieness ate you from inside more often than not. And you missed him even though he was no good for you. And logic couldn’t explain it.
At 17 your parents decided they no longer loved each other and you watched their perfect marriage fall apart piece by piece. And you were in denial. Because you were practically an adult. Because they were acting like children. Because they had always been together. Because the American Dream didn’t include divorce.
And at 17 you became so sad. So sad you wanted to die. And you didn’t know how to go about that because you didn’t know how to escape. Because going home meant listening to arguments, It meant feeling the bad vibrations ringing against your skull. And so you escape to some boys apartment where he assaulted you and when you come home you’re lost and sad and confused. You want to leave but you have no where to go and your mom says if you leave you’ll “only be making the family smaller.” Because life isn’t white picket fences anymore.
You’re 18. You graduated and you’re so happy. And both your parents show up though they can’t stand each other. Family comes from out of town to watch you walk across that stage because you earned that piece of paper you’re holding there in your hand. You’ve been single for a long time. In fact you’re so damn good at being alone all the time you should get an award for it. You stay with your grandma all the time now because your old house brings back bad memories though your mom holds onto the house. Everything is okay now. It got bad. But it got better. You have bright future ahead of you… I wouldn’t doubt that you could conquer the world with a glance.
Dear past self; Don’t give up. It gets better.