To My Middle School Self:

I know it’s hard.

I know that you wish you could run faster, throw accurately and that you were taller. You don’t think it’s your fault that you can’t coordinate your clothing for the life of you.

You hate the transience of what seems to be every single relationship in your life. Friendships fade or disintegrate, and the boy you thought liked you shimmers away. You can’t help but feel like it’s your fault. Everything you work for, labor for, spend long nights emptying your soul into your diary for, is to feel accepted—but can that feeling ever really manifest when there are always countless people walking out the door?

Though you feel as though you may have almost stopped growing physically, that in no way entails that this is where you will be stuck, mentally, forever. Emotions that you have suppressed have heightened beyond comprehension, or so it seems.

Still you paint a pretty facade for the world to see, all smiles melding into your nerdy archetype, no depth behind those crooked wire glasses. You bottle up your hurricanes into toy-store containers because you already had a reputation for being sensitive, and you don’t want others to judge you more than they already do. Sometimes you do state your issues to others, but you minimize them, recounting them without the same emotionality as they deserve.

Sometimes you don’t think you deserve what you so desire, and that’s the reason why you seem to be traveling around in circles, and you just think you were damned from birth. Sometimes you wrestle with the idea that you deserve it all, that you deserve the world for all that you’ve been through—sit still. I appreciate the fact that at these times you realize your self-worth, but it’s not more than anyone else’s. Your ego inflates and deflates every day-- a balloon susceptible to the oh-so-sudden pop at any time.

...But you will grow so much. It will be okay.

Writing and music will liberate you and save you from the black hole you say you are destined to be consumed by. They will help you hook yourself onto the shore at last. Those anchors of self-discovery will guide you in generating the strength you need to make it all change. But notice that I say they only will help you, guide you. In the end, it’s you yourself who carves out the path to these new revelations-- all you and the courage you never believed you had.

You will learn that the correct relationships to work for should bear any burden upon you. You will learn not to chase after people who don’t give a damn about your well-being. The ones you should keep are those with support systems on both sides, where the other person props you up as much as you do for them. They aren’t the ones that care about how ugly or uncool or unfit you are. They should just treasure your heart, your intelligence, your idiosyncrasies, even your faults. The knowledge of this is the first step from walking away, into the frightening but glowing unknown.

And yes, people will continue to burst into and out of your life, but it's a cycle you cannot really halt. Instead of allowing it to drive yourself onto the edge, you'll recognize that you, too, are probably a part of this process in others' lives. You'll appreciate present moments while they endure, while they last, and appreciate them when they're gone instead of wailing about them as if about a lost golden age.

Luck and circumstance do not factor in so much as you think they do. They pop up in small moments and can lead to golden opportunities—but they are sporadic and don’t necessarily continue to work afterwards. It’s your decision to work and chase these offered opportunities that contribute to success.

You will learn to be open with others much, much more. The words and confessions you divulge to your friends shouldn’t be suppressed, and once you find the correct people to trust, they will not critically appraise you. Your cheeks will eventually lose the embarrassed rouge tattooed across them every time you mention anything slightly off-kilter.

But you won’t put down your pen and give up writing, or put down the earbuds and give up music. You will become your own best friend, and it’s writing and music that offer the introspection to maintain this relationship. In fact, you will cherish them more than ever.

Some day you will look back upon your own journal entries. And you will be grateful that your hardships have infused sympathy into my spirit, have replaced your childhood cockiness into a modest self-assurance, have transformed your fragile glass soul into a steely

Darling, both you and I are aware of our imperfections. But I love you so much.