Dear Past Self,

Come sit down and talk with me

About how life has been.

I’ve been watching you every step of the way;

You hunger for every last scrap of knowledge,

Every fact, opinion, person and place,

To soar above others and live with grace.

But your curiosity will lead you to pain. 

Each drop of honey said into your ear

By someone you think you hold close and dear

Corrodes the framework of your fragile brain.

I remember you as a child,

On the first day of school.

You sat down next to that girl like a fool,

Not because she was friendly,

But since she had pretty, venomous eyes

And whispered and charmed you to sit by her side.

Your teacher would always tell you to share,

‘Cause it meant you cared and you wanted to show

Your new “friend” you were loyal and couldn’t compare

To others. 

But then she would know

The truth about your nature, so every day,

She would ask you—or rob you, I should say,

Of first a pencil during that test,

Then your jacket on that field trip in May,

And finally, your friends, on that day when

She spread poisoned words with her forked tongue

And tore your heartstrings one by one.

The gaping wounds she wreaked on your soul

Weren’t enough for those fangs to take their toll.

Years later you entered sixth grade

But blindly told yourself it was okay

To act the same as you once did

With that girl, pouring your heart

For strangers that never cared one bit.

You went too far down that path to be saved,

And I remember you crying, hiding in your cave.

Watching the others spreading dark lies

That could never subside even when you saw

Them showing their scars like trophies of war.

Line after line, game after game,

Ridges of memories and scathing pain.

You wondered if you should do the same.

Staring at flashing kitchen steel 

And wondering how it would feel

To have chilling drops of warm crimson run deep

Into the very essence of what makes you.

Or I should say what breaks you?

After each lap around the field of your fears,

You gulped down water clouded with tears;

Not your enemies’, but wholly your own,

Milked from the torment of what you controlled.

But every time your dreams would shatter

And rumours, lies, secrets you couldn’t hold

Would tear through your will like iron through butter.

And for all the times you failed to capture 

The hearts of others,

Every cell, every nerve, every thought in your body screamed:

“I can’t take it anymore!”

But then at the sound of your voice breaking free,

The leeches draining your humanity

Shriveled into the dust of the past.

And from the cloudless sky countless helping hands 

Descended upon you, offering a way out of the darkness

That had plagued you for so long.

You recognized them as parents, teachers, close friends.

The very few who had stayed with you

Even as your once flawless façade

Tarnished into undeniable truth.

You knew you couldn’t walk through misery any longer

And this time, you were sure those hands were for comfort,

Not curses.

Dear Past Self,

You would never sit down and talk with me

About how life has been.

But as the years went by, I watched you

Blossom and flourish with new family and friends.

So I am proud of how much you learned,

But remember, this is far from the end.

That is all I know.

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