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Nabs Dec 2015
By Nabs
Dear, My Past Self
I've always wanted to say a lot of things to you.
A lot of things that I would like you to change.
A lot of things I wished that you haven't done
(Like chanting hate to your self before you went to sleep).

But that is not the reason I am sending this letter.

We both know how the past cannot be changed, the same way we both know that girls will be girls and boys will be boys (which to say not at all, after all we are a firm believer that time travel and The Doctor exist).

I know that you are going through a lot of forked roads, right now.
Gnawing your lips and making it bleed, from worrying whether to choose right or left?
Afraid, not to take the wrong road but to take the road that you want, the third road that you've always thought off but haven't gathered enough courage to step to.
It's okay to be afraid of where will you get stranded in life. Being afraid doesn't make you weak.

But at the end we have to move forwards even if it will literally kills you to leave the breathtaking view behind.

At this point in your life, You will realize that the handful of people that you surround your self with are more of an aquantaince than friends. And you will lose some of the friends you have because of the directions you each choose to go. You will feel lonely and miserable.

A deceptive man called depression will lull you with the promise of kindred spirits and ask you to let him be your companion. You will accept this offer, not fully knowing the Concequences because Depression, in your neighborhood, is something that goes unacknowledged.

You will regret the decision of taking his hands
(He's a good friend of mine now, I know how to deal with his quirks and how to cope with him living in my home. He still ask me to join him in drowning, but I learned how to say no)

    There will also be a lot of people telling you that you are a freak. They will consider that being true to yourself is a sin and you will try to repent by torturing your self with soul leeching mask that will leave you identity in tattered remains (You will spent years trying to piece it back, taking new pieces and discarding old ones).

They will also paint names on your back, whispers lies and making a game on how much they can stab you in one day. (You always come home bleeding, but you covered it with 1000 watt smile and perfume to mask that fact that the wounds are rotting)

Do not try revenge, it will leave you with a guilt so heavy that the act it self would only taste like ashes and sour your heart. (I know how horrible that is, and I know you'll still do it because this letter isn't about changing the past)

Remember that you have an untapped core of titanium in your backbone.

I know you will spend some sleepless night thinking of ways to not wake up in the morning, how to keep dreaming, and letting the ghost take you away. I know how close you are to the temptation and how you almost bitten that forbidden fruit because you wonder if it taste like peace. I also know that you will deny yourself.

(Because that's the lesson that was taught to us since the beginning )

Society may tell you, to **** all the things that are different in you. The things that make you see a shade differently, the things that make your angle on the world askew, the thing that you were (and still is) proud of. You will ask why, and they will reply because you are not perfect.

Do not listen to them because a few months from now you'll learn that their reasons are poison and you had been fed spoiled milk all along.
(You'll get some stomach ache that will feel like butterfly wings, you will mistake it for infatuation. It's not. You'll learn that infatuations taste like sugar and the coffee that you'll grow to like)

At this point, You will also painstakingly build a shrine, made of ivory and desperation, for the one you mistaken as a saint (she's not but she's still one of the best things that happen to you). A shrine for a saint that you tried to be, a saint that was hailed from loneliness and envy.  

The shrine will be the invisible wall that you will simultaneously try to tear apart while build it everyday. You will always be the one who ask for forgiveness because you were a faithful believer who believe that you are a despicable sinner.

(You are as much as a sinner as she is a saint.)

The day that you look her in the eyes and burn the shrine, the wall will crumble and fall like the Berlin Wall. Both of you will become human ( Also you will find that she is easily bribed with pizza and you will find that you are different than her and that's ok).

You will also learn the taste of despair from the way the mother dove cannot understand that your screams are the way you say that you are breaking and you just want to quit breathing. Instead mother dove will translate it into screams of rebellion, and you were always the obedient daughter first, than you are a teenage girl.

(You will learn how to jab your scream into paper, and turn them into poems. You will truly make some bad ones at first. Don't worry I'll help you along the way)

One day, between where you are now and where I am now, the world will give you a present of awareness to the danger of smiling to strangers. You will cry in the hotel bathroom and try to scrub your skin until it bleeds, trying to feel clean but only managed to ***** the tub. The world and mother dove will tell you that its your fault and you were asking for it (You're not).

You will lose the ability to smile uncaringly.
(This is one of the things I wish we would have keep)

You will slowly watch the colors that you know fade from the world, leaving it a mottled grey. The same state that you are feeling now. You will paint lies and invent new colors to just make you believe that there is something worth living for. You will hate your self more and more for your new painting skills.

Don't hate your self, You are a survivor and you are still fighting (I know you wouldn't listen to this, that you would keep hating your self until you met some people who will be kind to you and help you hold up your forts from the monster inside your skin. Like I said this isn't that kind of letter).

I know that the day you smashed all your anger and hurt into the table that you sleep on, was the day where you first tried to draw red lines with sharp markers on yourself. It will be messy but you were addicted and soon all you can paint was release and the occasional victorian girl

(You will not draw boys because you despise the way that you cannot draw wide board shoulders, like the one you hate on your self but admire on your brothers because those shoulders look like they could carry the world unlike yours).

You will lock your emotions tight, and learn how to hide from the world (It wouldn't last long, you have the universe inside you that is screaming to be shared to people. You haven't learned how to say no yet, unlike me)

You will learn that you are also an idiot, that karma exist and it bites you in the *** as a payback for all those tyranny. You will laugh your self until you're sobbing and fallen asleep. The next day you will bring a book to educate yourself to your school.

You will be turned into a mess of paint, anger, bitterness, and dramatic flair. The only one that will be left without blemish will be the mask (not the face beneath). The woodcutters will saw your legs of from you, and you will be left without the means to stand on the ground

But you still will crawl your miserable 90 kilogram mass of body to the next crossroad, and the next, and the next, and the next, like the stubborn mule you (we) are.

And you will came out of the personal purgatory, that the world gave you, with a brand new legs, soul liberally littered with scars, and a tuft wings on your back (Albeit still very tiny. It's okay, It's still growing).

You will learn to walk again with your new legs, the one that isn't smooth like baby skin but full with callouses from all the road walking.

You will learn that being full of flaws is ok, that not being beautiful is fine.

You will also learn that you are allergic to cats (You will deny this fact when you find out until you almost passed out because you couldn't breathe. But we will still cuddle with them because cats are the best)

You will meet new people, wonderful new people. The ones that you care so very much and the one that cares for you back. The ones that's just wonky like you. (You will love this guy and girl that I am close with, they're very kind and sappy like you are)

You will get to fall in love, like in the romance manga that you secretly love, and you will broke your own heart (I wanted to say for you to savor it more, but like I said this isn't that kind of letter).

You will be ok with it, and you'll gain the skills of cutting people from your life

You will learn that the world isn't kind to your gender, and you'll ask for equality ( the same way you're asking for a new set of paint, which is to say with a lot of care and thinking). You will learn that the world will always be a ******* but there will always be change.

(The world needs its balance)
You will learn that patience isn't really your virtue. But you will learn to grit your teeth and wait.

You will learn to love your self. Even at some point the hate still managed to rear its ugly head. You will learn to be proud of your self and yet still be kind.

And you will continue to write your own story, you will make mistakes and learn from them, you will make unexpected plot twist and pull your favorite cliche. You will learn that not all people like your story and that it's okay.

That is so very okay.

This letter isn't about telling you to change yourself.

It's my way of saying thank you.

Because darling, ****** well done (pun intended)
                                    Love, Your Future Self

P.S :
(This isn't the end, how about we meet up for tea later?)
This is a long piece, cause I was writting this when I was feeling very stumped.
Hope ya'll like it.
Jo Baez Jun 2016
Why is it that at the end of every sentence I write.
There's a man with a knife piercing it's blade into the back of my brain.
My mind feels colder this year.
Minutes die faster but hours live longer.
Half-empty water bottles like my goals scattered across my room.
I wrapped a noose around concequences neck and kicked the chair he stood on.
I watched his legs dangle like dancing ballerinas on top of a frozen creek.
His face went colorless.
Then I buried him beneath my bed.
David Flemister Mar 2017
this world is doomed and we're all going with it.
you're on a giant rock hurtling through space.
you live in constant fear of death, yet that's the only thing you can be sure about.
you have a job you don't want so you can buy things you don't need,
to impress and satisfy people you don't like.
this world is doomed and we're all going with it.
why? no reason. its a joke. and your death is the punchline.
you've been put here to fail.
the meaning of life is its fragility.
that it can all be ripped away so fast.
its funny, isn't it?


so what? now you've got nothing to live for?
now you're free.
no fear of failure.
no fear of death.
no fear.
the world is your chaotic, lawless playground.
no rules.
no leaders.
no consequences.
you're afraid of living because you're afraid of dying.
you fear the inevitable.
stop being a ******* coward, stop being afraid.
there are no concequences.
this world is doomed and we're all going with it.
Nik Krutilla Jan 2015

It's not exceptional nor is it extraordinary.
It just is...
A brief journey through a half life.
She was given home to be born into that was furnished with doubt and anticipation.
A surpirse gift.
She had parents who loved her and raised her.
An adventurous and curious child.
She made way into the territory of her youth that was sometimes dangerous and sometimes timid.
That didn't stop her from exploring and wondering.
Pushing bounderies of her own mind and the surrounding world.
She climbed the highest tree just to fall effortlessly onto the ground waiting for her.
What could of been an instant end resulted in a hospital visit.
Left to her was a concusion and a willfulness to conquer fear from then on.
She was learning but not alone.

Forward some years and the little girl becoming a woman.
Being of compassion and loyalty she was a good friend.
Maybe sometimes too good.
An irrational chain of events one night out of thousands more to come would test that girl.
A time where her will and mind had been altered irrevocably.
An innocence stolen.
Still she trudged ahead for there was still life to be lived.
Even though at times, she questioned if her's was worth it.
She was a fighter at the core.
Cause and effect may be taken into account at this point.
Things had changed for those around her as well.
Here she was unceremoniously given the duty of caring mother-like for a child sibling.
Thrusting through an abandonment of the other half of a two pillar support.
Naturally and with some rebellion she mustered up the task and did what she felt she had to.
It was not expected but necessary.
She was learning but not alone.

As time moved on she moved with it.
Experiencing love for the first time she lept into it with ferocious dedication.
Trying to use the knowledge she had witnessed and apply it to the grown up world.
In this endeavor, a garden to be planted where a flowerbed had stopped blooming.
From it a seed of life becoming and unbecoming before it's time.
A warning of maturity perhaps.
Then later a gift of responibility to come to fruition.
A living, breathing love.
Not without it's concequences though.
With this joy also came trepidation.
A new seed growing but with possibility of delays or death.
A birth defect, chromosome abnormality the doctors warned.
A lifetime of disability or a short lifetime resulting in eternal rest.
The girl knew that no matter what came about she would want to bring this life into the world.
It deserved a chance.
So with that a baby came immense joy.
And to this day no negative physical affects.
The gift she will be forever greatful for.
She was learning but not alone.

Years pass and memories are still being made.
People have been lost but not forgotten.
Now a woman, she masters her life with hopeful hands.
Her health was always a loose branch in the wind it seemed.
Sickness came in the form of kidney infection and dying organs.
Car accidents and permanent aches.
Feminine ****** duties being taken away.
Genetic self sabotage.
Mental illness and straining to swim above.
She was learning but not alone.

It was a long difficult road in a short expanse of time.
Her life that she was constantly improving and trying to understand.
Now brings us to the point of a recent harrowing situation...

It's Christmas time last year and the snow is fickle.
Family is spread out and travel is a must for her little one to connect with everyone.
So she gets into her car to journey across the counties.
It's uneventful outside.
Work and bills and hobbies are what consume her daily life now.
But she is always focused on being a good mother.
So that's the reason for the ride, not the excuse.
Cruizing the same highway she's been down hundreds of times already,
She thinks nothing of it.
It's just what she has to do.
Traffic is sparse but other vehicles out now are semi trucks and hastily driving holiday commuters.
The radio is on and the child is in the back seat commenting on the passing scenery.
She is patiently answering questions and focusing on the road.
Up ahead of her some hundred feet on the snowless stretch she sees a car wiggle a bit.
Tightening her hands on the wheel she just knows this isn't right.
She can't move over to her left.
She slows down under the speed limit just in case.
But it's inevitable.
She's going over that samw spot in a few seconds.
Now as she does, her body suddenly kicks into instinctual safety mode.
The car doesn't wiggle.
It starts to fish-tail.

Splotchy recollection takes over here.
From that exact moment, it could of been only a few minutes but it felt limitless.
As the car started to take a life of it's own she heard the voice of her daughter in the background.
A mantra of 'It's okay, we're okay" flooded out of her mouth automatically.
She tried to right the car but her hands could have been invisible at this point.
Half rotations from left to right eventually lead to doing a 180 degree motion.
Stopping the swivel just before the car impacted the dividing medium on the highway.
At unaided 55 miles an hour she was now looking into the windsheild of another car in the other lane.
The momentum pushing the slippery cage of metal backwards now.
She was a dichotomous fog of confusion and awareness.
Only lasting a few more seconds the car wipped it's way back East.
Sliding back into the lane it was originally in, it kept going.
She now could see the edge of the ravine getting closer.
Where the highway ended and darkness started.
A 20 foot drop if you fell sideways.
Scared chatter from the backseat.
Radio on.
And then suddenly nothing.
Like catching a glass from falling off the table the vehicle just stopped.
Everything turned off.
It was over.
Just sitting alone on the road.
No horns were honked and no one was hurt.
Her breathing was the loudest thing to be heard.
After looking back quickly to make sure her little girl was alright,
she closed her eyes for the first time since this all began.
That's when she felt it.
Something she has felt before but only faintly throughout her life.
When things were wonderful and when they spiriled down.
When she had felt great happiness and overcoming sorrow.
It was an electricity that bloomed in her belly and down her back simultaneously.
It grounded.
It soothed.
It overtook.
She was learning but not alone.


You could say it was a fluke or maybe luck.
For me it was something better, bigger.
As I continue on my life's path wherever it leads me, I just know.
I know that things happen for unknown reasons and we want to make sense of them.
Sometimes we can't.
All I can say is that by suffering through the pain and bad, we value and appreciate the good.
People have terrible situiations to live through but they live through them.
We find the meaning to our lives sometimes in mysterious ways.
Sometimes you have to attribute things to faith, undoubtedly.
And when it's not your time...
It's not your time.
I still survive.
What's your explanation of my story?
Something I haven't already thought of maybe?
When you can find another reason for it, let me know.
Until then I dare you...

Tell ME that GOD doesn't exist.

Stella Stardust Mar 2017
I said I wouldnt sing this song about love
But how now does one sing without heart
I never should have let you come in
I never should have met you from the start

The concequences shuffled to the back
As we took off blindly running towards flames
I never should have let you come in
Should have known that it pours after rain

Play... We watched the night become the day
Stay... whisper the promise you'll betray
Gray... the feeling left when all the feelings finely fade
Away, but with a record of my thoughts on replay

The past is stuck and hanging at my heels
The feelings never seem to go astray
I wonder if you know how it feels
To know I've been easy to replace

Dodge past the shadows on the walls
On paths where nothing seems to allign
Begging for a ledge to finally fall
Beneath the blackened soul of time

Play...I could have cast you to the bay
Stay...where you belong, out of my way empty room turned to a tomb of my decay
Away, but well it known I am the poem you call cliche
Lela Dec 2019
I'm too tired to think about the concequences of my actions
i don't really care about anything or anyone anymore and i don't know if that's a good or as bad thing if I'm being complety honest.

I used to be such a stupid person - caring about everyone hoping I would get the same thing back.
Knowing that I won't but still believing.
So foolish of me to think that anyone would care about me.

But it's all clear to me now
And I've understood that the best way to hide your feelings is to not have them at all.

— The End —