I want you to hold onto something for me.
Do you remember where this started? Do you remember what it felt like, sitting on that colorful plush carpet in the Library while your teacher read Where The Wild Things Are? The way it smelt -- the way that it transported you? Do you remember the first time you read a Magic Tree House book? Or Goosebumps? The hours you would lose in your imagination -- the man times you'd look for a glimmer of magic wherever you thought you could find it?
The way it felt to climb that tree in your backyard, and how it was just easier to breathe up there?
Don't lose that. Don't loosen your grip on that feeling for even a second. I know being a kid is scary, and that feeling of vulnerability is something you can't wait to shed off. But do me a favor, just between the two of us... wrap that feeling around you like a blanket. Use it when you start to doubt yourself, when you start to look around and wonder why it doesn't feel like you belong anywhere. You don't -- that's the best part.
Be kind when you speak to yourself. Be kind when you speak to the people you love.
I know that you look at yourself in the mirror and think you're unfinished; a work in constant progress. You think that you're still waiting for all of your pieces to click together, waiting for it all to make sense. I wanted you to know that right now -- in your crooked teeth and your skinned up elbows, in your bangs cut too short and your scrawny little legs -- now is the most put together you will ever be. The delicate little human you are right now is someone that you will constantly be trying to be again.
I won't tell you to stop trying to grow up. I won't beg you to enjoy your innocence and the sweetness of your childhood. Because from where I stand, you did. You cherish it so much you forget that you're a grown up sometimes.
Be careful with that. Sometimes the things that hurt in life hurt worse when you're a grown up trying to protect the little kid that still exists somewhere inside you.
I'm here to tell you to focus on the things that bring you back to that place, though. That feel like magic the way that they once did. Because even now, at 23, there are some things that bring you back to 9. The smell of rain and dirt in the early spring, the crunch of autumn leaves and the sound of Mourning Doves, the scent of Rosemary in the summer, the glow of a Christmas tree in a sleepy house.
You aren't delusional for romanticizing everything; some days that's the only way you survive.
The existence you know is meant to fluctuate. One day you will meet someone who will teach you that love doesn't ask you to choose a single role and play a part to the best of your ability. You will live to see so many versions of yourself born, and their funerals too. And you will be blessed to experience it next to someone who will keep you safe. It isn't something to be afraid of, even though I know you've always tried your best to embrace change. You will meet people and you will take pieces of them for yourself, they will take pieces of you that you will never see again. And that's okay. You aren't meant to hold onto everything that is handed to you, and you aren't meant to leave with everything you started with.
I know it doesn't make sense right now, and I'm not answering any of the questions that you really want to know. But one day you'll understand. When you wake up on your 12th birthday, you won't just be 12. You will also be 4, and 6, and 10. And when you wake up on your 18th birthday, you will also be 16, and 13, and 7. And it'll take you a long time to notice that, but when you do, I hope that you don't take it lightly.
That's confusing, I know. It still is sometimes.
Ask for help. Ask for hugs. Ask to be carried inside from the car. Ask to stay outside for five more minutes. Because when you get older, the things that you want and the things that you need aren't always that close within your reach. So reach out now and grab whatever you can.
You are deserving of softness. You are deserving of empathy and compassion. You deserve to be loved the way that you imagined you would be. One day, you'll be lucky enough to realize that you are. But --you aren't always selfless. You aren't always kind. It isn't someone else's responsibility to remind you to be. Don't get so lost fighting for yourself that you hurt the people who are fighting for you too. Remember that it's possible for wounds to be explanations for the way that you act without also being excuses. Learn that quickly, and learn when to put your swords away. Always running with something sharp in your hands might keep other people from hurting you, but you'll hurt yourself in the process.
Hug your grandpa when you can, and tell Mrs. Grubbs when you get to 7th grade that she doesn't get paid to bully 12-year-olds. Tell your mom and dad that she called you a dumb blonde. Play dolls with your little sister. Tell your mom thank you more. Tell your dad that he's your hero.
Of all the things that I wish I could tell you, I won't. Because learning the lessons you have made you into someone that you're proud of. When I look for guidance, a lot of the time I imagine you riding in the passenger seat next to me. So keep going, kid. I'm proud of you. I hope that you'd be proud of me.
You don't marry Joe Jonas, by the way. You marry the kid that walks you all the way out to your car every day after school even though he's supposed to be in the weight room with the rest of the basketball team. He isn't making fun of you because he knows you have a crush on him. He teaches you so much, and he makes you a better person than you ever thought you were capable of being. And when you don't deserve it the most, he will be the closest thing to magic that you've ever felt.
(Way better than a Jonas brother.)
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