i am healing. in my fifth year of this depression i have realized that i now know how to take care of myself. i decided to type out my story. i kinda turned it into a poem.
today (sunday) i was walking through the empty halls of my college on the way to the library so i could study in a private room. all of a sudden, it hit me: i… i actually made it to college. i made it to (young) adulthood. i’m alive! i’m independent! i live five hours away from my family and i’m doing just fine!
i just noticed that i am smiling as i type this. i wanted to note this.
i think of my younger selves and my heart swells.
dear eight-year-old me: you think you’re fat because you are bigger than your classmates. i look back and realize how normal i looked. little me, you are perfect just the way you are. baby girl, i am doing this for you.
dear ten-year-old me: your parents’ divorce grinds you between its teeth before spitting you out. this was the moment in which you became an adult. your first heartbreak wasn’t even your own. little me, you were so strong. honey, i am doing this for you.
dear thirteen-year-old me: you’ve found that middle school is hell. you eat your emotions and become the fat girl you always believed you were. you look for love, but it hides. little me, I love you. sweetheart, i am doing this for you.
dear fourteen-year-old me: you’re constantly stressed and don’t even realize you barely eat anymore. you receive a comment about the weight you’ve lost. you feel…. good. you now barely eat on purpose and when you do eat, you make sure it leaves your body before you can digest it. everything hurts. you want to fucking die. little me, i am so happy you stayed alive. babydoll, i am doing this for you.
dear fifteen-year-old-me: you trusted him. he molested you. you went to the hospital. he went to jail. little me, it is okay to trust. darling girl, i am doing this for you.
dear seventeen-year-old me: your high school experience has been utter hell and graduation approaches. it is the peak of the mountain and the soles of your boots wear thin. you tread forward. little me, you knew the tears you cried would be worth it. they were. growing girl, i am doing this for you.
dear eighteen-year-old me: BITCH!!!!!!! HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL HERE ADKSJHFLSKGJS you have been through HELL and back my GOD girl keep it up you fucking rockstar!! keep loving and keep living and never forget what made you who you are!
ok if you actually read this shit, kudos to you and i hope you have a fucking great day