Posted in Completely Random!!, Letters, Sleepless Nights, Writing

Another Letter to the Self

I forgot to exist here for a good while. I’m back~

Dear self,

I just wanted to let you know how hard you’ve been on yourself lately. Yeah, it’s pretty obvious and you’ll probably skim over this the way you usually do whenever anyone mentions self-love; but bear with me for a second and imagine what would happen if you said half of the things you told yourself to a student of yours. ‘Wow, that was really stupid.’ ‘You should have just ______!’ ‘Why didn’t you do it this way, dummy?’

No wonder you hate yourself. No wonder you don’t like to be with yourself. No wonder you want distractions from your own thoughts. But this isn’t a reason for your bully self to beat you up more and pummel you down deeper into self-pity. (‘You’re so stupid you can’t even not hate yourself.’) It’s not saying you can’t laugh, ‘Wow, I did make a pretty silly mistake,’ because there’s a difference between recognising a mistake, laughing, and moving on versus latching onto it and hitting yourself over it.

This is just a little reminder that there’s this gentle side of you too — the one that tells students, ‘Hey, it’s okay that you messed up. Let’s just try this again; I know you can get it’ — and it’s not inaccessible to you. The only thing keeping it from you is the mean side of you who’s betting on you forgetting that you can be nice to yourself. It’s okay to mess up. It’s okay to cry, to be frustrated, to not get something right away. It’s not because you’re not enough, or you’re too stupid, or you’re incompetent; it’s just that you didn’t get it on the first try, or maybe the second or third. But don’t let your coach beat you down because of it; let yourself learn from it, shake off the dirt, laugh a little bit, and try again. Tell yourself that you’re okay. Tell yourself how okay it is to make a mistake.

Be gentle with yourself. Handle yourself with care, because you’re a human just like everyone else you talk to. Don’t let anyone talk to you in such a berating way — including yourself.

You’re doing great. Just keep trying. Keep doing the best that you can, because that’s all you can do and that is enough for now. Just do your best. Keep going and do your best.


The Gentle Side of Yourself

Posted in Completely Random!!, Letters

Dear Two Years Ago Self:

You feel like ages ago. You didn’t ever really cry about losing virtually everything; funny how you seem to think it’s so bad. Not much really changes in two years, does it? Not on the inside.

Hm. You know, you’ll learn it’s easier to leave than to be left. The person who leaves has to deal with something entirely new; it’s a new picture to work with. The person left behind is the one who has to patch up and work around the holes where the other used to be. That often hurts more than starting anew.

Now things are coming to an end for a more permanent way. But you don’t have to worry about that right now; right now, you just take it one step at a time, one item at a time as you put your childhood back into a couple of suitcases to go across the world again. You can keep telling yourself you’re used to it for now if that helps, but truthfully, that isn’t something anyone should get used to. You should cry more, you know that? You should talk more. I know it hurts when your throat gets so tight and the only coherent thought that even a mind-reader could see would be ‘I wish they could read my mind,’ but there are other ways to communicate, you know. Probably why you took up writing in the first place. Probably why you take up many things.

The years ahead are going to be rough. You didn’t notice how hard they have been getting, anyway; life is like that — a process, a gradual slope that can go down, up, around, often without us noticing. It’s like that. Doesn’t mean you have to hate it.

There is always pain. Always a lot of pain. You will want to give up in virtually every possible aspect. For the beauty of it, for the masterpiece in all its bloody glory, you don’t have to give up. You don’t have to victimize yourself, but you don’t have to give up. Don’t use the victim mindset to avoid the war no one else can fight for you. But others can fight it with you. So don’t be an idiot and go off trying to fight it on your own, alright? Of course you will. But no matter how little others can seem to know, or how alone you feel, or how knowledgeable you like to convince yourself that you are, you still have a lot to learn.

Trust it. Don’t just trust in yourself. You’re only human, right?

Posted in Completely Random!!, Letters, Sleepless Nights

A Letter to a Distant Friend

Dear Unnamed,

I wonder if you will see this. I wonder if you would care.

I wonder if you would still stay up with me into the ungodly hours of the night, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting. Do you miss that?

I wonder where you are, and what first started the rift that has seemed to turn into an infinite abyss between us. Was it me after all? It usually — well, in all honesty, always — was me, but you know I don’t mean it in a self-pitying or resentful way. It’s just the way things are. Was it the grief that jammed the knife into the blades of the fan to prevent it from turning, or was it my own forgetfulness that forgot not to push you and everything else away?

I think about you. Not enough, but I do. And I wanted to talk. So here I am talking to you.

I wonder if You will see this?

Posted in Completely Random!!, Letters, Writing, Writing Bits

dear child self

you know to act like an adult —

you act like you want to be one.

you know how to delve into your pretend before coming back up for a quick lunch, then returning to your fantasy land that exists in your fairy tale lands of the most commonplace places.

you know how to love, how to talk, how to go out like nothing in the world could go wrong, not even when the very foundations of your childhood are shaken to their core — literally — as your living room shatters before your eyes and friends come and go and culture is an ever-changing background with which you should always fit in.

you can cry. you sing. you dance your silly little dances and play your games that never quite dissipate or know what to do with themselves except wiggle their ways onto a page in a story instead of running through the over-imaginative brain of a child who stood in front of its closet convinced it would make it to Narnia some day.

you know how to ask: ask for help, for something you even mildly desire, for comfort, for the right to sleep with Mom and Dad when a nightmare leaves you crying over the fear of pain and death.

but you also cry over who you are not.

you push yourself to be the image of perfection some shadow has cast into your mind.

you silence everything unpleasant within yourself — you fear it, but you cannot let it show — not the frustration, the hurt that even you refuse to recognise, the disappointments you learn to ignore by ‘logic-ing’ your way out of everything.

who taught you emotions are wrong? who says you can be more human by blocking out one of the most human parts of yourself?

who said you have to be this other person in order to best be loved for yourself?

dear child self:

you have been and will be loved for who you are.

don’t forget how to love others as you forget how to love yourself.


from,      sincerely,      kinda love,

your not-quite adult self

Posted in Letters, Poetry, Sleepless Nights

Free Verse: Dear Friend

Trust me–

I know it’s hard. 

I know you feel like no one gets you. 

I know you feel like the only one,

Pitted against the world with only fear by your side. 

I know it hurts, and it aches, 

And you just want to go back to the way everything was before. 

I know you miss home. 

I know you miss everyone you love,

Everyone scattered across the world,

Everyone who gets you,

Everyone you would give everything to be with again just to have it normal again.

Just to feel at home again. 

I know I can’t relate completely. 

I know you and I are still different. 

I know that I have more to learn about you,

About your story, and your struggles;

Your joys, your pain. 

I know that I only saw a fragment of these in the time we spent together,

And I know I think I know too much. 

I know you feel frustrated. 

I know people don’t seem to care. 

I know you’re still grieving through a million transitions. 

I know you just want someone who understands. 

Yet, at the same time, I know that you know–

Know this is not the end. 

Know your last goodbye is never truly the last. 

You know you can be loved for yourself. 

You know you do have a voice;

You know it’s okay to be broken,

And that others are hurting too. 

You know that you’re supported from all ends of the earth,

That you are important,

That you don’t have to try,

That it’s fine to cry. 

More importantly, you know that you are prized

And adored

And kept

By the King Who truly knows you. 

Knows you for you.

Loves you for you. 

And He will hold onto you no matter how many times you let yourself down. 

Dear friend! Your Father is still with you.
August 31, 2017

Dedicated to The Tomahawk