Dearest Adult Self,
I hope you’re still around to read this.
Life didn’t treat you all that great while you were in school. I know, I know, it’s all about the education. And I hope you learned a lot while you were in school. Especially high school. But, the people you learned with were not the nicest people.
That being said, you probably know what saved your life. I hope you still have that old thing. You started it when you were fourteen, and a day did not pass that you were not on it. You probably know what I’m talking about, right? Well, if not, let this refresh your memory.
Blogging. Fangirling. The works.
You know exactly what I’m talking about now.
Do you remember that time in middle school, when there were rumors that you were a lesbian? When in fact you weren’t a lesbian, but you weren’t straight either? Oh eighth grade and all the drama… I’m glad I got though that, and I’m sure you are too.
There was a boy, no, scratch that. Two boys, who you fell madly in love with, while in your freshmen year of high school. Do you remember them? They caused you so much heartache then… But I survived, and that is in the past, eh?
Then you went to high school, an all girls one. It became your home, a place you could be yourself. You were open with yourself and others, and had big dreams. But you couldn’t be honest with some of the people you trusted with your whole heart. Your parents.
I hope by the time you read this that you will have come out as a bisexual to them. I hope that it didn’t ruin your relationship with them. They don’t understand, which makes me feel scared all the time. I honestly hope it turned out all right.
As you can probably remember, your life sucked when you were my age, fifteen.
Because of all of that, you were not in the best emotional state. Let’s be frank, you were suicidal. Which is why I stated this with, “I hope you’re still around to read this”. Because it’s still going on right now, and I don’t know how I’m going to make it through. But I will. I refuse to give up. Giving up is for wimps, and you are not a wimp. You are not weak, you are strong.
Have you gone to college? Did you ever get your PhD in ancient history, like you wanted to? Have you written a book yet? I’m still doing the research for it, have you finished it? Did you ever find someone that you loved, who loved you back? Do you have any kids? (You know you promised yourself that that wasn’t going to happen!)
I guess what I’m trying to ask you is, are you happy? Happy with what you’ve done, happy with the life you have right now, as you’re reading this?
Happiness seems just tantalizingly out of reach right now. If you could write back to me, would you? Would you tell me that it gets better, and that you’ll find a girl or boy that loves you for your mind, not your body, such as it is right now? Or did it get worse, before it got better? Or did it just get worse and worse, and you can’t read this at all, because you’re beyond the place where you can read this?
I’m afraid, and I don’t want to do this alone. I want to be loved.
But you can’t tell me the answers I seek, because by the time you read this, I’ll just be a memory. Just another night spent tapping on your computer. Another night spent hoping your parents don’t come in to see you typing about your bisexuality. Another night spent blogging and reblogging things that make you smile just a little bit. Another night spent wishing for things to get better than the way they already are.
You were beautiful and strong, when you wrote this. Tainted by fear, desire, and a touch or acne, but beautiful and strong in your own way.
With all my heart, I hope that you are happy.
Your teenaged self, aged 15.