To My 16-Year-Old Self:
If only silence weren't so deafening,
No noise so empty wouldn't have filled it.
If only your home wasn't cloaked in gray,
And knew it would be painted bright in the end,
Then, you wouldn't have to be all that.
Yet I see and hear you, and I forgive you for it all.
To My 17-Year-Old Self:
If only you could tell the friend,
Whose warmth shifted that season's course,
That you yearn for more sunsets at the summit with her.
Sadly, you're no longer a part of her life,
But she remains in the depth of your heart.
And just as she had, I've also already forgiven you for that.
To My 18-Year-Old Self:
I'm not sure who to thank more,
Yourself, who kept igniting the flame,
Or Sam Kolder, who did spark the fire.
You were vibrant, fiery, and feisty,
Brimming with ideas, art, and life,
Something about you I've always loved.
To My 19-Year-Old Self:
That time, more and more friends came,
With it, more memories were created—
Birthdays, travels, and everything else.
The good old days with good old friends.
But life being life, everything comes to an end,
And I'm just glad you seized every moment.
To My 20-Year-Old Self:
Completely, you have fallen in love,
With the art of living and capturing life,
Still brimming with ideas, art, and life.
Two initial encounters were also marked,
And if only I could warn you of what was ahead,
But there's no need for you've figured it out in the end.
To My 21-Year-Old Self:
Girl, you were on fire, though your heart was 'in the North.'
You made eyes bawl all across the world,
Of those who enjoy dragons, wolves, and thrones.
How bold it was also to venture eastward from the north,
In the land of the rising sun, you hoped to find yourself.
If only you knew you found so much more than yourself.
To My 22-Year-Old Self:
Oh, how pure and innocent was your heart,
You loved and loved with all your might.
Yet beneath such purity and innocence,
Troubled and tangled are the roots within.
You sought answers in all the wrong places,
If only you knew the answer was waiting 'round the corner.
To My 23-Year-Old Self:
Then, the answer came—a heart of flesh was given,
And on that night, you offered it to be all His.
Your heart overflowed and poured out love,
Until eyes shifted and your heart got conflicted.
The flame then began to burn for another,
But He remained patient, waiting for you to choose Him.
To My 24-Year-Old Self:
Oh, how dark your heart had gradually become,
The cup turned empty with little left to pour.
Medications came to try and numb the pain,
Relapses came to show you there was still pain.
You grieved for all you felt you lost,
Yet He remained patient for your eyes to fix on Him.
To My 25-Year-Old Self:
Desperate and deceived,
Thinking you were all ready,
By the substances ingested and dosage elevated.
Darkness turned home; the sight of light suddenly scorches,
Wanting to break loose, yet there's a grip that doesn't seem to let go.
Perhaps, He kept His hold tighter than ever.
To My 26-Year-Old Self:
A heart gone stone, yet I know a flesh within,
Welcoming a new season through clearer lens.
With no more substances to numb the pain,
Nor rose-colored glasses to distort the frame.
Shattered but grounded, these lenses hold,
But underneath the rage, you know a steadfast love sees through.
To My Child Self:
You were so young, filled with innocence,
Undeserving of any of such horrid events.
Yet you've grown with a heart full of love,
Constantly bouncing back from each setback.
After everything, I wonder how come,
'Til I get reminded who knitted you in your mother's womb.
