Dear Teen Me ~
You, with the bleu Sharpie pen.

Those ripped leggings are hugging your bones like another layer of skin. Weren’t you maintaining your weight? Oh, that’s right. I remember now. You were spending some more time in that day hospital program. Philhaven. The depression had come back in a rush. It was overwhelming; a tide of uncertainty and anxiety, complete with a bow laced with self-loathing. It was wrapped around you like gauze and medical tape, all melted together as one hard cast. All that weight, Love, and you crashed. You fell under a suffocating blanket of hatred and were constantly shrouded by ribbons of past mistakes.

/Failure, failure, failure/

Those thoughts followed you around like a black dog with a limp, slow at times, but always there. Your “friends” turned their backs on you after that night. We decided that they weren’t friends, remember? But then there was something else to think about. Who /were/ your friends, then? The ones you had trusted were the ones that turned away, gave you the cold shoulder. Remember when you were thrown in a whirlpool of doubt? You just didn’t know who to talk to half the time. Except for Mom. Mom was always there. And she’s the reason you’re still alive. We both know this. We came to terms with that fact a while ago. We liked it.

/Recover, recover, recover/

Your goal, always in the back of your mind, was to recover. Not just for yourself. You always put yourself last, Love, even though you were sometimes viewed as selfish. You wanted to recover for Mom, right? And your boyfriend. You love your boyfriend. He’s another that’s helped you stand in times of doubt and mistrust. That mindset really helped you. You managed to overcome, slowly, painfully, but you did. Realized who your friends really were, accepted yourself as a healing being.

/Hate, hate, hate/

Even to this day, however, you still have a lot of hate inside. You can’t stand the people who made you who you are; a girl with two faces, one for show, one for yourself. Those people have a special circle in hell, according to your logic. You have hate for the popular people; they’re the group famous for ignoring you and introducing you to a sliver of the world. Speaking of, you hate the world. Everyone is the same. Well, except for the artist ones. Those like yourself, lost and looking for the right group of individuals. You’re finding them, slowly, one day at a time. Keep looking.

/Love, life, lust/

You may or may not believe this, but your relationship with Momo lasts. You’re going to get married. You may struggle for a little, but it’s only temporary. Just like life. Life is temporary. Don’t be afraid to live it, though. You have to remember that life has a purpose. What you believe that is, though, I’ve still yet to find out. You’re slow, but that means you’re careful. And that, Love, is a good thing. You can never be too careful.

Sincerely,

The Hope You’ve Found