Dear me…

Unsent letter to a 16 year old girl.

You have blue eyes, honey, and when I say “blue”, I don’t mean the color. They are bluish, or greenish or greyish. Those stupid things have a tendency — just like you have, baby girl — to change a lot, depending on your mood, the weather, even the shirt you’re wearing. But it’s not the color that’s important: it’s the fact that they are blue. They’ve been born blue, and I’m writing this as a 36-year old woman: they’ll stay blue.

Your grandfather used to say that you have trouble in your eyes. You don’t remember that right now, but you’ll will. It will take time, just like with everything else I know you’ve forgotten, but you’ll remember. You’ll remember how he used to show you stars and constellations, and how he held your hand when you thought noone knew. He knew. He also had blue eyes — but it will take some years for you to remember that.

Why am I writing to you about your eyes? Why am I not giving you some solid piece of advice, like stay strong, and be brave, and all the bad things you think about yourself now will somehow be erased by the years? Well… I think you know that. I know you do. That is that quiet voice in you telling you not to settle. Telling you to forget all that ideas everyone has about your life. I know that voice, I was there when you first heard it. I was there when you decided to try. I was there when you fought, so I know all about that voice. And I know that you’ll be able to hear it even when the life gets hard. And it will, I’m not going to lie.

So, what’s with the eyes? You were born sad. You were born alone — that’s the true story, you’ve heard it many times before — you gave birth to yourself, and in time you’ll appreciate the symbolism of the simple fact there were no doctors or nurses the night you were born. And it will happen many times through the years: there will be people around you every time something bad happens, or something tough, or something noone should handle alone, but you’ll do it alone, you’ll fight alone, you’ll win alone. And the people… well, they always stand there and watch, knowing it’s your battle.

I would like to tell you things are pretty easy, but they are not. Life is messy and hard, people sometimes break your heart, and there are rough times ahead. It will get better, but not soon. Soon you’ll start remembering, and when it happens — and it will — you’ll start hurting. And you’ll also, for a brief moment, start hating. Go there. I can’t tell you not to hate, and I can’t tell you how not to feel hurt or betrayed. You’ll figure that out yourself, and believe me now when I tell you — in the end of that road, you’ll feel grateful. Two years from now you’ll have a breakdown. And 20 years from now you’ll smile at that moment when you finally remembered, and told yourself it was not simply a nightmare, but a real thing all along, and you’ll feel grateful.

Remember the eyes. I just need to tell you that. Remember the sadness you were born with, and know that you need it. Because it’s there for keeps, it’s gonna stay there even at times when you’re madly in love, even at times when you hold your son for the first time, in every single day of your life there will be a tinge of sadness at the horizon. Don’t fight it. Or do, but know that it’s not going away. You were born with sadness and loneliness, and I can promise you that you’ll meet incredible people and that you’ll love so much your heart will feel like it’s going to explode, but those two are angels on your shoulders. Keep them there.

Go, look at the mirror. See? I’ve told you: they’re there. Always were, always will be. Learn to love them. Learn to use them. See you in 20 years.