Letter to Myself- Anna

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 Dear past self,


I hope you're still well, I know you’re not but a man can only hope and dream about the past. I know it’s hard that you always feel different, unliked, unaware of the silly rules set in place by life. Freshman year is finally over. I know you love going to school now so cherish that for all its worth. You know our cousin, Chase? He said something that wasn't in ancient Egyptian for once and spouted off something that really stuck with me. “Life is a lot better when you do your homework.” We really learn that the hard way… be prepared to spend your 6th grade year with the library teacher in detention. I know, we actually get detention. It’s not the end of the world though, as I've never gotten violent… kinda. 

I never really ‘fixed’ what was wrong with us, I still never fixed why we don’t understand how talking really works, why we’re awkward and clunky and loud. I know the problem and it requires medicine that I cannot afford, (Plus I don't really want to ask my parents.) I’ve finally found friends that will take me at ‘face value’ again. We lose everybody close for a while but it’s fine. I know you still stay up past 9:00 PM crying that you’re going to be left alone and while it does become a reality, you learn a good enough lesson about not talking when you’re not supposed to. It’s nice to know that we’re slowly learning the rules of this little game called ‘Socializing.’

It’s hard to get out of bed some days, stay away from benadryl. Unless mom gives it to you, that stuff feels like you’ve banged your head against the wall but you're on a roller coaster. Closest thing to a ‘high’ I’ve ever experienced and I still had to go to school. It sounds crazy, but you feel the appeal of recreational drugs slowly pulling you, adults who are just like us use them and finally have ‘clarity’. Like their mind if clear, how cool is that! But I’ve contained myself. Hopefully it stays legal in our state. I don't talk much to my parents anymore, it feels like all I ever am is in trouble, so I don’t ever bother trying to talk anyways. I still hate getting yelled at. 

I feel like I’ve been very pessimistic, so I’ll make this section all of the good things I, or we, have done. We finally dropped that narcissist that wouldn’t let us have friends, we’re still with our lover (Going on 5 years now!) I finally have a best friend again, I call him Cage, Rickolas cage. His real name is Remy. (Yes, like the rat from Ratatouille.) We find a passion, and still listen to music. The world (and our life) doesn't end when we are 13. We made it through and, hopefully, will keep making it through until college! 



I hope to write to you again.


The one and only;

Ivan.

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