Dear past me,
Dear Past Me,
It wouldn’t be a lie to say that I don’t like you. I don’t like your weakness, your stupidity, your belief that no matter what happened everything would turn out perfectly fine. Because look what happened. You had everything and you lost it, and you never once fought to keep it. And you’re alone in an apartment that feels more like a place you live in rather than a home. And home is strangely enough a place that you don’t know of and most likely have never been to.
Thanks to you, I don’t remember much of any of his distinguishing facial features. I look at pictures of us, but it’s not enough. I don’t remember how it feels to hug him and feel the curves of his shoulder blades, the constant shifting and moving of the bones beneath skin. I don’t remember his voice, except that his laughter had been high-pitched and unrestrained, like his personality had been. I remember eye colour and hair length, I remember key personality traits, but I don’t remember things like favourite colour or favourite video game or anything that formed him, formed his personality.
And what’s worse is that he is gone. He is someone else now. Perhaps he is more mature, perhaps less. Perhaps he is already dead, as dead as the boy I struggle every day to properly remember. And it’s all your fault. It’s all our fault.
I don’t like you, but I don’t hate you either. I understand you, because you are me, and even though I resolve to never be like you again, there are days when I can feel you wriggling and squirming inside. But I will never let you possess me, never let you take over and ruin what little I have left to live for.
While there is not much for me to thank you for, I know that I can at least thank you for making me more conscious about life and its let downs. About life and its lies. But most importantly, about life and how to get back up after you have fallen down so hard, you’re afraid you may never recover.
From,Future You
