My younger self
Let me start abruptly and with no formality whatsoever. You were so brainless. Like seriously, you didn’t even know the meaning of manifesto or know that albeit means though. You didn’t even know how to form words like, ‘And the sun drifted through the windows and shone on the face of the most beautiful handmaiden there ever lived.’
You just sat, drew or painted something and you were actually good at it but then I wonder…How did you become a writer when you were so into art and playing Nintendo all the time?
How were you able to form such extreme words and publish your first novel when you didn’t even know what you were good at?
The only answer the you right now has, ‘it was meant to be’. Everything, from dropping out of school, to struggling to sit and weave words, to publishing, was destined and we can’t question destiny, can we?
I’m so proud of you right now that now, I’m always grateful to God in what you have come to achieve.
As time passed, you grew less brainless. Less careless but more stressed. You went through a lot, you cried a lot, at some point you were even hopeless, but you held on.
You kept your feet firm on the ground, which is utterly difficult for many of us to do so but you did it and I can’t be more pleased to see you make me who I am today.
Thank you my younger self for not giving up when life was turning and twisting hard. For persevering to reach your goal until the very end, and for not losing hope because hope is one thing that we blindly allow our souls to occupy.
You have worked hard so now rest, because its time for me to carry on the weight. To reach the top and to make my dreams and wishes come true.
I won’t let your efforts be in vain.
I won’t disappoint you. I promise.