letter to 24 years old me
This is a message for my old self from 12 years ago who said this:
I'm coming from 2021, by this time you're 36. And no you don't sometimes feel that you don’t have anybody. You DON'T have anybody. You never did and 12 years later you still don’t. Remember that girl who came to you and said, "don't say that you don’t have anyone, what about me? Am I not your friend?" I tell you what, that's bullshit. She never reached to you this past 12 years. And everybody gets their lives and you're still all you are. People say shit to comfort other people. Sometimes they don’t really mean it. So, don’t feel guilty about what you feel. Your feeling is perhaps your truth. When you feel that you don’t have anyone back then, that because you know you have your reason. It takes a while for you to finally addressing your own feeling and not be embarrassed about that. You don’t need that toxic positivity where people saying you need to be grateful and shit. You're lonely and that's the fact. Nothing's wrong with it! You've been great surviving until 2021, but I couldn’t promise you more than that. Hopefully there's no more year ahead. I tell you how you doing now. That
1. you don’t have anywhere to go back, place where you can call home. Because you finally realized that home and family supposed to be the first place you look for comfort, it's not the place where you have to adult when you're just a kid. You're not parent and you don’t tiptoe in it. Home’s the place where you should get support and be yourself. Not a place for you to be terrified. Now, if you go back there and being there makes you unhappy and scared, that is clearly not a home. 2. you don’t have friends. Deal with it. you thought you did, but believe me, when something happens, no one would bother to look for you because you don’t really close with anyone. You don’t trus anyone. But that is not your fault. You had your fair share of trusting. 3. You quit all your job and decided to be full time writer. I tell you, you've never been happier in your life. But as I'm writing you this, you are not that lucky, and you are not that a good of a writer. Right now you only have $1K in your saving. That's all your money. If you use it wisely, you can survive for another four months. You don’t get any publication and your writing will find difficulties in finding home. You're stuck because you're mediocre. 4. you will meet someone you call a brother in 2019 and you remain in good place for a while until you freaked him out. This person would make you happy from time to time but at the end of it you'll feel like a loser. Don’t blame yourself, you have your clear reason. These weeks also you would be reconnected with an old friend, you enjoy her company so much, but by the time she comes back to school, she'll also will be busy with her life. You're sure about that. People have life, jobs, family, goals in life. You don't. The other day your mother said you don’t have a job. She's right. Bear in mind, you are only needed when people are in their loneliest state. You are cheap and easy. And that is fine. You will tell yourself to be more aloof but you're falling very easily. 5. You have been staying in the same small room you rent for the past five years. It's a cat box, it's a cage, the rent is 50$ per month. You're 36 and you don’t even have your own place. You can't even make a toast, cook or care for a pet because those are not allowed in the building. 6. Let's not talk about lover. You never had any. You fell in love for the first time in 2017, in Norwich. You will be mad about it but be creative at the same time, you wrote half a novel about it. You admired the person up until couple weeks ago you realized that the person had so many red flags you completely lost all your respect.
Believe me, there's nothing to look forward anymore in your life. That's it. That is the end. You would wish that you'd be dead soon. When the money's run out, you practically have no plan. No project and no reason. Why bother? Don’t be ashamed to take pity on yourself. Believe me, nobody really cares. If you want to get mad, then just get mad. By the end of the day you only have yourself and if you're too tired to survive, I think it is fine if you want to give up. They guy next door and his wife would laugh at you because you keep talking to yourself, but fuck them. Fuck everyone. You'd be surprised too, that you'd started enjoying alcohol this year, also cigarette. You'd be smoking a lot and having bitter coffee every day. You'll still be listening to Alanis Morissette and The Corrs, you'd still love that song Foolish Game by Jewel, and when you look at yourself in the mirror you'd still hate to see the reflection. You have no hope, you're very dead inside and you should accept that. When I'm writing this to you I'm in a café near our place. It's a new one. You'd come there every day for a couple weeks with different shirt like you're an attendee of an event. Every other day when the sun so hot you put on cheap black shade you got from the mall. Believe me people would stare at you. But you would say fuck that shit, you don’t care. You don’t really worry anymore. You will start missing people, but people won't be missing you. Even when they do, they won't say it. They're too absorb to their world. But you will have their memory, things you can replay in your head, their trifle actions, their emails to read, their pictures to look at, all the concept of those people you still talking to because you're a fucking weirdo. You're a shy psycho who secretly wanted to be understood so bad. Fuck you, fuck me, and fuck everything.
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