An open letter to my one year younger self


it’s me, your one year older version. We need to talk, I’ll try to make it short and easy, but take a sit, if you want. We have never been the kind of “I’ll stand when I am at my desk” type of person.

I know where you are now, crying your eyes and your heart off. So here I am to tell you that things do get better. But don’t get your hopes too hight, too soon; it is not going to be a cake walk.

There will be endless sleepless nights, endlessly wondering what the fuck is going on. There will be relentless rolling in the bed trying to figure out how everything you thought you had was falling apart, and what the fuck to do to stop it. Spoiler alert: you cannot stop it and won’t stop it.

There will be a long string of morning where the first thought will be “why am I even bothering going out of bed?” (but you will get out anyway).

There will be people you admired who’ll let you down. There will be friend who’ll let you drop like a sack of flour. There will be people to whom you thought you meant so much that will just erase you, like you never existed.And this will suck big time. There will be plenty of broken promises. There will be people that will tell you how to live your life and all that is wrong with you, and how you should change.

There will be a moment when you will start thinking that there must be something wrong with you. Your self-esteem will be shattered, and believe me, it will not happen overnight. It will happen slowly, sneakily, so that you do not realise it quick enough to stop it.

There will be number of times when you’ll try to stand up, and every single time, for a while, you’ll be kicked down, a bit lower than when you were before.

But after all of this, after you will have cried more tears than you thought you had, things will turn around.

There will be old friends, whom you did not realise where there all along, and you’ll know finally that they are one message away only. There will be new people you’ll meet, who will bring a new breeze in your life. There will be cats (who would have thought we would get cats?).

And new places to explore, new adventures to live. There will be new dreams to pursue, and old ones you’ll take the dust off, finally. There will be the moment, no, actually “The” moment, when you’ll get that you are not perfect, but there is nothing wrong with you. And you’ll feel like you are breathing again.

There will parts of who you are you’ll discover in time: some you’ll like, some not. And you’ll be able to chose whether you want to fix what you do not like. But you won’t let anyone tell you what you must change in yourself.

There will be night when you’ll be sound asleep and many many mornings when your only concern will be whether to have another coffee (with or without milk?) or not. There will be parties, and dinners. And books, so many books!

Don’t get me wrong. Shitty situations and shitty people won’t change. They will be there over and over. But you’ll be different. You won’t be afraid anymore, maybe you’ll be a bit more cynical, less interested in forgiving and forgetting, and surely stronger.

In a nutshell, you will pass from “what the fuck is wrong with me”, to a cathartic, liberating and empowering “fuck it all”.



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