I have recently read an article. I don't remember the title; although I should. It was red in all cap letters. It was from one of those "not trusted" sites, like Buzzfeed. This article in particular was believable to me however. It was a list of 21 situations of adults that have encountered their former bullies. They described how it was like to be bullied by these heinous people. Some of them were devastating; a kid was almost killed by his basketball team. Another crossed into the dark side and eventually bullied the bully. With that being said, I'd figure I could write this to you, old self; I want you to hear the words we wanted to hear when you existed. No, you are not dead; you are still part of me. You are just sleeping in peace. So here it goes.
Let's start with the obvious. Dear old self, first of all, you should have come out of that closet sooner. Those special people that knew about your "experiments," which is how we decided to call it, wouldn't have used them against us. We could have been happier, yes. Luckily, I am proud to say that out of those special people one of them is here in the US struggling. Honestly, you are happy about that. We are probably going to hell for that, but isn't Karma bitch? We sure are one. Most importantly? The things you thought were so important when we were 11 years old, are quite frivolous now. So don't worry about it. Even better news? The rest of the special people that bullied and/or tease us? Some will become friends, some will fall off the face of the earth. It happens.
Second of all, dear old self, you will develop a minor depression. You might get suicidal. Who am I kidding? You will get suicidal. But we are clumsy and kind of positive at life, so we will fail at those attempts. Who else do you think is writing this? And the reason we will get ill is because the bullying will continue and you will have to develop a thick skin. The good side is that we will go through the alone phase. In Sophomore year of high school, after name calling and mocking and being a social outcast, you will get fed up with it. And discover that you have the option of isolating from those monsters. You will make good friends. You might lose touch with these friends, but every now and then you will know of them. And they will know of you. Better yet? You will get an internship with the American Museum of Natural History, a paid internship. By the time Junior and Senior year come, we will be at our peak and stay there for a while. You will develop a passion for literature, Spanish and English, and find our passion for creative writing.
Third of all, dear old self, people will think you never really stuttered, especially Gollum. Why? How can these people say this about us? You? Me? Us! Well, because during that high school peak I told you earlier we became part of Our Time/Say: an association that has help kids who stutter since 2001. We got more confident, thanks to speech therapy. And it slowed down; people did not notice anymore. Kind of. And with this, I became more open and talkative. And embrace our weirdness. Those people that thought we were weird? Yeah. They were right. We are so freaking weird. Our Frenemie, Sal, will certainly remind us of that. Dimo will too, but we will get awkwardly close after joining APD, and he will eventually forget about it. By the way, we are joining a fraternity. And we will love it. Philanthropy will become part of your life, social life will boom, we will get a boyfriend-hey there, handsome- who will deal with the baggage you still carry. And get a great family. Hi, Godfather. Godson, I hope you read this. Love you, Brother.
In conclusion, we will be okay. We will graduate college, get a masters, and become a writer/college professor (I hope). You will feel comfortable stuttering away over the phone. Because, damn it, it is common decency to let me finish my thoughts when I talk over the damn phone. You will get internships and slay all the way through. You will also not be sure of how to use the word "slay" on a sentence. That feeling of getting older will creep nearer as the new generations get to dictate what is good music. You will go to the middle (or deep end) of Staten Island to show support to awesome Sorority Girls; Jason for Delta Dude, people. We will be okay.
Me, The Hero We Needed Back in the 2000s.
P.S: You will become a Republican, but not support Donald Trump. I should clarify that by saying this monster becomes president. Sorry, buddy. The world kind of still sucks, but we will be good!
This too shall pass.