Letters to Myself

Location

548 S Maplewood Ave Tulsa, OK
United States

If I could,

I would

Turn my seven-year-old self around

And tell her to

Fight:

Fight him off.

Just because you have half of his DNA doesn’t make it

Okay.

Babygirl, keep fighting

Don’t give up, don’t

Give in.

Throw a punch,

Leave a mark,

Fight until he stops.

Violation,

Exploitation,

Mutilation

Of your body

Doesn’t make you wrong.

He

Is wrong.

 

I would tell her to stop growing up so

Fast.

You’re only a little girl

Once,

And you never got to be small.

A man

Stripped you of all realization that

You

Are larger than life,

A star that shines so

Bright,

That even he

Couldn’t take the sparkle from you.

It may seem as though it has vanished, but

It’s there.

I promise.

Keep fighting.

 

If I could,

I would

Hug my twelve-year-old self and tell her it’s

Okay

To love her in a different way than she loves

You. It’s

Okay

To wish she would hold your

Hand

And look at you like you look at her.

It doesn’t make you wrong.

They

Were wrong.

Disregard their words. It does

Not

Make you

An abomination,

Wicked,

Unholy.

It does

Not

Make you

A ruthless,

Sinning

Monstrosity.

It

Does

Not

Make you

Wrong.

 

I would tell her that those

Boys

Who made fun of you are

Scared

Of you.

They’re scared of your

Confidence,

Intelligence,

Sparkle.

You have a sparkle that is

Ethereal.

Still, it may seem as though it has vanished, but

It’s there.

I promise.

Keep fighting.

If I could,

I would

Stare directly into my fifteen-year-old self’s eyes and

Tell her

Breathe.

Stop,

Close your eyes,

And breathe.

It is okay to not be

Okay.

You are allowed to have bad days and

Good. Good

God.

Don’t give up.

Breathe.

 

I would tell her it’s

Still

Okay to fall in love with her, even when she doesn’t make it

Clear

To you that she loves you, too. It’s

Okay

To be scared to make the first move, to

Laugh

At her bad jokes and ponder the mere

Thought

Of her lips on yours. It’s

Okay

To be gay. It’s

Okay.

 

I would tell her to

Go

For the girl you desire,

Not

For the boy you try

To love

Just because it’s what your dad

Wants.

Go for her.

His opinion

Doesn’t decide.

You do.

Little do you know,

He

Is a liar.

He

Will walk out and leave you

Broken,

But he won’t take your

Sparkle.

Though it seems as though it has vanished,

It’s still there.

I promise.

Keep fighting.

 

If I could,

I would

Smile at my present self and

Tell her

You did it.

You fought your way through the

Darkness you’ve been fighting since

He took your

Innocence,

Since your best friend

Was taken by the violent

Plague

In which we call

Suicide.

You fought your way

Out

Of the closet you had been hiding in for far too long.

You fought through vomiting up your

Colors

In private,

And embodied them. You

Did it.

And you have her to prove it.

I’m proud of you.

 

I would

Tell her

To keep shining so bright,

That the light within you is

Intangible

And your colors are

Vibrant,

Beautiful,

And absolutely

Resplendent.

And one last thing:

You are so strong.

I

Am strong.

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