Dear me,
I’m sorry you feel so scared. I want to tell you that it gets better – that with each passing second, your heaving chest will feel lighter and the voices around you softer. But it doesn’t get better. Not really.
Remember when you thought it was the end of the world when they chopped down your favorite tree in the park? You felt like you lost yourself and that you won’t ever feel complete again. It’s kind of like that. A part of yourself will always be missing, and you’ll always wonder what you did wrong. You will wonder why men and women try so hard to impress each other only to spend the entire night staring at a lit up box, concentrating on virtual people that aren’t in front of them. You’ll wonder why girls sprint to the bathroom after dinner only to stick their fingers down their throats. You’ll wonder why your parents argue in the middle of the night.
And then you’ll stop wondering. You’ll become one of them.
Nameless, faceless, lost. Your eyes will sink lower and lower into your skin, and they will lose the hope and curiosity they once held. You will scream and cry and question why you are never enough. You will drown over and over again, but no one will notice even though the walls are so thin. And you’ll worry. You’ll worry about the way you look. Society has ingrained into you that pretty girls are skinny girls, pretty girls are perfect girls with perfect teeth and long hair. You will spend many more years worrying about the way you look and questioning why you don’t look like girls in magazines and movies.
Your mom will tell you to stop eating. You will look down at your plate, trying to choke down a mouthful of tasteless leaves while you choke back tears. You will spend many hours sitting on the bathroom floor, your head resting against the door, wishing you were as cold as the tiles beneath your feet. You will hurt, and you will cry, and you will wish you didn’t wake up. There will be scratches on the pale walls made by metallic rulers. Names of crushes, dates of first kisses. Tally marks of days spent alone and nights spent lonely. You will spend time on the corner of your bed – curled up and alone, staring at the artificial fluorescent glow, wondering when it would all get better. There will be late night phone calls and tears that ended up with scars not on the walls.
But you will learn, and you will cope.
You will learn to drown out the noise, the endless whisperings and reminders of “you are a disappointment” and “no one loves you.” It will be difficult, but you will try. If I could give you advice, this would be it: Stop looking at your feet. The world is much more beautiful when you actually look up and notice the things around you – the skies, stars, people. See those old books and novels that line your shelves?
Read them. Live a thousand lives among warriors and princesses and dare to dream as far as they do. Stop focusing on what other people think of you – they don’t matter. Find a group of friends who will not judge you and who will love you for who you are. Trust in them and trust in yourself. But most importantly, love yourself. I know it’s difficult- I’m still struggling with it today, and it will still be a struggle in the future. Keep trying. Accept the love you receive, and give as much love back as you can. You are worth it.
Love,
20-Year-Old Me
liquid guilt 