dear me

dear five year old me

i know it hurts, shhh, it’s okay to cry, let it out, trust me

i’m you

no the other kids don’t wear long sleeves to cover up the bruises

they don’t grimace when they sit back against the hard wooden chairs

or feel the wetness on their back from a hundred lashes of the willow branch

it isn’t wrong to feel this way


but it isn’t everyone who did this

and you didn’t deserve it


you’re strong for all the tears

the fears now will go away

you’ll grow stronger than you can even imagine

you’ll write

you’ll sing

you will not be a product of this toxic environment

no little five year old me

you’re going to be fine

it wasn’t your fault though you shoulder the blame

dear eight year old me

it hasn’t gotten better yet

if anything

it’s gotten worse

but like i told you two years ago

it will

i see the wrist brace again

i remember that snap

once was bad enough

but that second and it was nearly you that snapped

put it back in the drawer with the other knives

it seems like the only action

but it’s not

it isn’t that no one understands you

it is you haven’t told anyone yet

and won’t

for such a very long time

but one day you will

for now clench your teeth and endure this

a couple more years and it will be done

i’m sorry i can’t help you

and those that can have no idea

but do you feel the steel growing inside you


now hurry back in

you’re not going to enjoy this

but the burns will heal

i swear

dear eleven year old self

two more years

the agony is nearly done

do you know what a crucible is

i forget if we have gone this far yet

you always were smarter than you could show

one of the reasons it is so hard to handle

because knowledge and emotion don’t equal the same when the equation is pain from where it shouldn’t come from

what she did to you

what those shes did

it was from a place they were lacking

not you

and all the times you were touched and hit and slapped and hurt


they never go away

i’m sorry still

but if you can hold it together a little while longer

i keep asking you to

because you will

even if it means your tongue grows too sharp to handle and you draw blood without knowing why you lash out with it

soon you’ll have a new set of scars to cover the old

it doesn’t lessen

it doesn’t

maybe one day

i don’t know

dear thirteen year old me

we made it

now the physical damage has been done

the bones set

the scars nearly invisible

but we have to talk


the breaks go deeper than you know yet

go ahead

get the knife from under the mattress

you know other kids hide dirty magazines there

not us though



just a little

not too deep

just let it out

how long has it been since we cried now

too long

you don’t see that

when you get older than you ever dreamt of making it


how you’ll cry

you won’t even bother controlling it

but i get it

not now

too soon

it’s too fresh

it’s going to get to a point where it is almost good

just breathe

we survive

dear sixteen years old self

that smart mouth and curious head hasn’t done us any favors

has it


in fact it has dug the hole into a pit

soon you’ll give your heart away

really relinquish it

and it’s going to come back battered

but we’ve already been broken

file it away as another lesson learned

and watch out for green eyes

it’ll make sense soon

i’ve earned that much credit from you

a little blind faith

dear eighteen, no, twenty one, no, twenty five year old me

i tried stopping by earlier

but through the haze of drink and drug you weren’t receptive

call dad

trust me

call him every week

you need to

he needs you to

no spoilers

but you can imagine what’s coming

you’re doing fine but those scars are starting to show

starting to affect things in a way you never realized

you’ll have to fight them and you let them become demons you cannot hope to destroy

but you can chain them up

one day

everything is going to change again

and soon

be strong

you won’t be

but you’ll do what you do and choke it all down and bury it until it’s too late and it has become something more debilitating

it’s kind of what we do

good luck

you’ll need it

dear me now

can you believe it

we are so much farther and no closer to any of our dreams still

beaten and bashed over the head so many times we get punch drunk making coffee in the morning

but we’re this far along

something woke up inside recently

you opened up

and it hurt like hell to do

but it’s good

might not seem like it

but it is

hold your head up high

you illiterate fool

head full of hip hop and punk

face weathered and scarred

hands callused and calloused

but still going

it’s time

let go of your heart

send it out there again

who knows

maybe someone will trip over it and decide it looks okay

just try it

for us

i’ve steered us wrong a few times

i know

but always worth good intentions

we’ve got this


5 thoughts on “dear me

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