I know you’re only 17. I know that things are hard. I know you’re so confused that you’ve gone numb. I know that it’s much easier to just quit, to not care. And I know that you think no one really see’s you…
But I see you.
You’re a lover of all things imaginative. You’ll write for no reason until your fingers bleed. You read all day just to feel the wrinkles in your brain. You paint to express the chaos you can’t verbalize. You sing to make other people feel what you feel.
You’re a beautiful, true individual, and you don’t even realize it. You have a heart for people, and that makes you so special and wise beyond your years. People flock to your personality, your laughter, and even your tears. But you’ve put up so many walls, you’ve become so isolated to the rest of what humanity see’s, that you don’t even see the crowd gathered in front of you.
Young, old, innocent and guilty, they all respect you in their way. I just wish you would respect you.
Sweet girl, I wish you would just take control and open your eyes, though I know that’s much easier said than done. I’m 25 year old you, and I’ll tell you, we’re still struggling.
But that’s ok. Things are going to be ok. You’re going to make some choices that screw you up for a little while. And so will I. But if there’s anything I’ve learned from you, it’s that you have made me incredibly strong, capable, flexible. So no matter what happens, remember this: chin up, beautiful. You are loved. You are brilliant. And “people can’t change” is bullshit. Things will be just fine.