Dear Younger Me,
You were a happy child, I’m sure. You liked to play with your dolls and stuffed animals and build cities out of Legos. You loved to paint and draw and sing. You were absolutely content with just being you and I’m glad you were. Yet, you were a solitary child. You drew and painted by yourself; you sang, built cities and played with your dolls all by yourself and while I think that it was a good thing–because it broadened your imagination and made you fiercely independent–it kept you quite and reserved. And because you were too quiet and too reserved, you were extremely observant. No one really needed to explain things to you because you already knew. You knew far too much too fast–I think more than you even realized you knew. There’s a pattern to human behavior that you picked up on very young and once you saw it in action a few times you were done. You didn’t want to grow up and be one of those people. You didn’t understand why they treated each other so badly. You didn’t understand why people had to lie instead of just telling it like it is. No, you refused to be one of those people, which is why I think you’re a little messed up and lost now as an adult. You refused yo become part of society–to be one of them–so you’re always just skimming on the outside and peeking in every-so-often. And that’s fine. Sure you’re a but cynical about society, but you are consciously aware that the would is a beautiful place and that there are people who aren’t as terrible–people like you, living on the outside and peeking in once in awhile. And when you find your people it’s magical. Sure, there aren’t many, but even so, you’re pretty much content on your own anyway.