letters to my sixteen year old self
Sometimes, when I go through old journal entries, I can't help but feel melancholy. I want to go back in time, and hold the small, frightened 16-year old I once was. I want to remind her how much she loves old films and the rain. I'd hug her so tight. I'd buy her sunflowers, I'd take old polaroids of her smiling. I'd show her how divine that smile of hers is. I would have lunch with her in the courtyard, and listen to 'The Beatles.' We would probably gush about John Lennon, and I would remind her that it's ok to be different. I want to tell her that days get brighter. I wouldn't let a minute go by without telling her just how beautiful she is. I want to tell her to take care of herself, mentally and physically. To cherish the good days, to laugh till her belly hurts. To, no matter what life throws at her, to hold on for dear life. I'd tell her to not dare give up. To not dare let someone define her worth. To keep writing. Even if it comes from a dark place, to never stop picking up that pen and paper. For, one day, it'll be her story, after all. I'll tell her to continue to wear her heart on her sleeve, for that's what makes her, her. I'd tell her that the pain will feel raw like the ground is being ripped from underneath her. That she's going to be lost for some time. That it'll feel like she's dragging herself through an unknown street without a destination. That she will get heartbroken, and giving her heart to the wrong people will ultimately prepare her for real love someday. I'd remind her that life is a delightful journey filled with highs and lows. However, even on her worst day, I'd remind her that the sun rises the following morning. I'd warn her that the people that she loved the most will deceive her, but I'd encourage her to choose love again, again, and again. I'd tell her that there are not many people today with the burning passion, and compassion that she has. To guard her heart. To be kind to her friends and family, to not push them away. That it's vital to have a support system. I'd tell her she's not alone. No matter how isolated she feels, I'd tell her to cry out to God in the midst of her despair. I would tell her that he's waiting with open arms, that he's waiting for her to come home. I would tell her that her own "strength" was her weakness. That she would fall again and again, from lack of listening to wise advice. Lastly, I would tell her that her Heavenly Father is the only one with the supernatural power to heal her from depression and anxiety. To make her whole. To stop looking for healing at the feet of those things that broke her, but rather ask her Prince of Peace to meet her exactly where she is. I would hold her, oh, how I would hold her.