We’ve been through some shit, haven’t we?
I don’t even have to know you–to know that this is true.
You ever think about yourself back in the day? Ever think about that girl, going through hell?
Maybe you were living a nightmare on the streets, or maybe you were trapped in some miserable McMansion…
You had a reputation as the town slut, like me, or the boys didn’t even know you existed…
Maybe you had good-for-nothing parents or the kind so “good” it smothered the spark out of you…
There is no hellfire competition, sister. Whatever made you feel tortured and sad and scared and unloved did a damn good job — back then.
Whatever it was and whenever it happened, you are here. Now.
And my wish for you is that here and now is a whole lot better.
It ain’t got to be perfect to be progress. You’ve come a long way, baby!
So reach back and let younger you know what’s up. Let her know: yooo…believe it or not, shit’s gonna be amazzzing! (Because sometimes it is, right? Better than you would have thought on your worst days.)
Tell her you love her. Thank her. She’s paying the price for your here and now. Go ahead. Time bends; she will hear you.
A Letter to a Younger Me:
I never forgot you.
Every code I crack. Every door I unlock. Every success. The obsessive hustle.
Every one of these is a fulfillment of a wish I made in a dark room on some lonely night in Danville, Virginia — halfway through puberty and already one foot in the grave.
An insomniac child, whispering requests to the future. Sad and weird and alone…
If they ever ask me, ‘to whom do I dedicate my work, my art, this life?’ my answer will be this: Myself, at age 13.
And when you’re done, go ahead and give 13-year-old you a shout. Let her know what’s up. Send her your love and gratitude. She deserves it. She’s going through some shit.