— an anecdote of potpourris.
Hi, Dear Me
To help you detach, let go, and come home.
Remember how you felt last year?
How unwanted, unimportant, and lonely you felt.
Think about the moments and the minutes you went through without consciousness — a monotonous machine chained to its desk countless hours a day.
Think about how you were wasting away the feeling of being 21. How you’re unable to relate to tales of others’ glory days when they were your age. How you felt like the odd duck for having gone through a rather different life. How you were sick to your stomach not knowing how to fit in.
Try to reminisce about the times when you felt invisible, when people used you over and over again leaving you empty. Remember what it’s like not being able to connect simply because you couldn’t detach. What it’s like to find comfort in someone only to find that warm mattress you fell for is nothing but spiked grounds with the sharpest edges.
Remember how they criticize you like their hands were all clean? How they belittle you and never gave you any chance. How unapologetic they were with your mistakes. How they demand perfection out of you they’d suck your soul raw and dry.
But most importantly, remember what you yearn for amidst all that you felt.
Remember how you yearn to explore new things on your own — without a single place left uncharted, and circle back to how alive you felt when you actually did it.
Remember your undying fire of curiosity. The one that left your heart aching saying “I wonder what that feels like.” Remember how you contemplate regret of things not going your way but glad you still pulled it off.
Remember how fluent you were when you were writing, and how explorative your designs can be. Remember how you thrived on your own, and how you let yourself grow no matter what.
This year, let her come home.
Let her drive your headings and lead the way.
Let her forgive, let her cry, let her heal.
Let her go beyond her title, and define herself on her own.
Let her take control.
