To my future self, 

Don’t miss me. When I think back on my childhood, I miss it more than anything. It may have been one of the worst parts of my life, but at least I was ignorant and blindsided enough to be unaware of how bad it really was. I’m too understanding of my life now. I can’t block out traumatic memories anymore, and I can’t focus on anything for too long or my mind starts wandering to the hell it once was. So if your life has gotten so bad that you miss me, then I fear my future.

Four years ago I could barely fathom a time worse than what I had gone through as a child, but now I yearn for those days as if they were filled with shining memories of love and happiness. While the truth may be different, I was never one for reality. I used to think that being honest about myself was the most important thing, but now I would gladly float through an ocean of lies for a drop of that past deception. 

It’s come to a point where I wonder, what matters to me most? Being strong and facing the future, or falling back into a fabricated dream where I could ignore the painstaking sacrifices made by everyone around me? Where I could brush past death and agony so easily, without a care in the world. 

I want to look at the person in the mirror and tell them that they’re strong for everything they’ve been through, but all I can see staring back at me is the weakest, most pathetic, and unhappy girl I’ve ever known. I see someone who wants a lie more than the truth, and who would gladly destroy their future to go back to their past.

Do you remember your past? Do you remember who you lost? Do you remember anything about it? How could you want to go back to such a time? Did the good back then really outweigh the bad? Think fast. Would you really give up everything positive you have now for what you had back then?

In a heartbeat. 

Why? Tell me why, please.

I don’t know.

How could you not know? Am I not you?

I don’t think you are. I’m not someone you’d want to be. We may share a mind but our hearts are different. The only thing I can be certain about you, is that you will leave me behind. You will shove me into a closet and never let me out. That’s the only way you can move forward without the constant tugging at your sleeve, begging you to go back.

You’re going to leave me. You’re not going to miss me. I will suffer for the rest of my life while you continue to pile your pain on top of the prison you’ve set me in. You’ve chosen to let me rot so you can be happy. 

That sounds about right for me. 

Maybe you deserve to be selfish, but remember, the only person you’re hurting here is yourself.

Lots of love, 

Me.