dear twenty-year old me,
the storm in your head will settle and
the debris will remain down for a few minutes longer this time.
(and then you'll learn to hold down fortresses in the
hurricanes, instead of being the ragdoll that
the torrents play tag with).

dear twenty-year old me,
there will be a moment when no amount of
poisonous smog clutching on the every molecule of breathable air
will be enough to block the clarity of the sun, the moon,
even the little stars that seemingly do nothing but give you a carpet
of diamonds to cut your feet on.

dear twenty-year old me,
this is a test. this is a phase. if life has taught me
anything, it is this -
it
always
goes
on.
**so should you.