letter to self.

i know that more than anything you've wanted someone to hold you in their arms and let you cry, someone to rock you as the tears flowed and tell you that everything is going to be okay. but you've never experienced that. not during the endless moments as a kid when your father stood you up, not during that moment in college when you pleaded over the phone for him not to take his life, when he was too high to recognize your voice anyway. not when you saw the pills and the bathtub filled with water and your mother reassured you that it is not what it looks like, she's just trying to scare her (now former) lover into staying. instead of someone's arms, you held pillows when your first love got pulled over that one summer and everything changed, and when you realized that not even meeting his parents or sharing his bed was ever going to change that. no one was there when you finally walked away but spent months trying to take it back. you only came close to having that moment when you last saw him some months ago and discovered a whole new way of feeling worthless. you refused to let the tears flow when you went back to a friend's to grab your things, but nearly lost it when another friend decided to wait with you as your boarded your bus. 

you never have that moment because the people around you prefer to wait until the dust settles. do you remember the words of yet another friend, coasts away, who said she never has to worry about you because she knows you'll always be okay? because you will be okay, eventually. because you're what they call 'strong' and a 'fighter.' but it's okay if you have those days where sometimes, you want a warm body to hug you and let you cry. it's okay to wish you had people in your life who won't wait for the dust to settle, or who, unlike your mother, won't lash out in anger because your sadness, your depression reminds her too much of her own. 

i know you're not being good to yourself. but i forgive you, you know. i see you fading, i see your light dimming and your body disappearing into nothing but bones.  i forgive you for retreating back into your soft-spoken voice, for using netflix and bad tv as your escape. but i also see the small ways in which you fight - the apple muffins you bake so that the tiny apartment you share with your mother feels more cozy, feels more like 'home.'  i see you write belated holiday cards, remembering more people you want to express gratitude for their existence. but here's one for yourself. you'll get through this just like you get through everything - with your heart intact. you may feel lonely right now, you may feel some 'holiday blues,' and while it's okay to let that wash over you for a while, always remember that your body, your mouth, your heart, were all made specifically for loving. and that includes loving yourself. you have a pillow to hug, a teddy bear to hold, and remember that your existence means something in this world. your existence means something to me.