DEAR GIRL





DEAR GIRL,


How did we let it get this bad?
How could we have let this chameleon into your soul, and not know that one day it was going to claw its way out of your throat?
How did no one see what this ever-changing thing has done to you?
You wake up some mornings wanting to grind your bones to dust and it has made you believe that feeling this way is okay.
It has made you believe that turning yourself into whatever people want you to be is okay.


DEAR GIRL,


When did you become the type of person who decided that they needed to answer to anyone but themselves?
When did you become the type of person who was both friend and foe, both hero and villain?
Who said that you had to be either?
Who said that you had to choose?
Who said that you had to be soft-spoken or smart or so angry all the time—


Who are you angry at anyway?

Your friends? The world? Yourself?
You can't save a rotting house—you just have to let it crumble.
You have to let the dust settle.
And you, girl, you are the rotting house.
You know that you cannot build anew with a bad foundation.
You know that you have to be your own hero because you have learned that sometimes everyone is too busy trying to save themselves.




DEAR GIRL,


Haven't you learned that this is what life is all about?
Learning how to lick your wounds instead of waiting for other people to do it for you?


Haven't you learned that you don't have to be what they tell you?
You know that you don't have to be this nice, pretty girl, wrapped up in silence to make yourself easier to swallow, don't you?


You can be whatever you want to be.
And you, girl, you are the rotting house, the barbed wire circling a fence, the forest fire.
You are destruction and creation in its truest form.
You are the ivy wrapped around your own neck—you are your worst enemy.


And you, girl, are all you are going to have left when the years begin blurring past your eyes, the streetlights a million ghosts in the sky.




DEAR GIRL,


Here is my advice to you:
stop hating yourself.
Stop letting others make you the footnote to your own happiness.
Stop trying to change who you are for the benefit of everyone else.


I know that it’s a lot harder than it sounds—a lot more blood and sweat and tears than anyone ever makes it out to be.
But the future is coming.


And in it, I see you.


And you are laughing, and smiling, and more in love with yourself that anyone ever thought you would be.


Than I ever thought you would be.


Love,

Myself.

Photography by: Joy
Poem by: Jayana

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