Dear Ms. Personal Essay:

Ms. personal essay, you are my significant other. Through you I tell my life’s stories. 

Ms. personal essay, you make me think. You make me go inside myself when I’d prefer to stay at sea’s surface. You force me to ponder questions about myself I would choose to avoid. You don’t let me get away with saying, it’s too hard. You insist on my choosing words which fit my pain. You insist on my creating images which bring the reader into the narrative. You insist that I create color and contrast. You insist I create rhythm. You insist on truth telling. You refuse to accept fakey stuff. Never can I dupe you which is really duping myself.

Sometimes you are my peer- parent who pushes me harder and harder. Your expectations only increase. You lead me to the pinnacle of my capability. Like climbing a mountain only to discover there’s more to climb. I was blind to. So much more to say and do.

Ms. personal essay, thank you, you don’t allow me to hide my face. Do you remember my personal essay, the one about my father, where family secrets jumped off our pages? Remember grandpa being locked out by grandma for abuse, my father becoming the son-father to go out and earn some kind of living, whatever a fourteen year old teen-age boy could earn? This isn’t the narrative I wanted to write. I wanted to make-up a story about my family. But you insisted I tell the story whole. Truthfully.

Ms. personal essay, remember when I talked about my own future death? How now for the first time I said openly and plainly to myself and to anyone else willing to listen, yes, I will die? You were there for me, you rescued me from too much sadness seeing my aging body, you told me my pretti-ness was ageless. You are my blessing.

Ms. personal essay, my life’s words are entrusted to you. Please, continue to hold me accountable when my words are too dull, too strained, too banal, too boring, too off-balance, too off-topic, too distant, too close. Create a safety-net so I do not run away from my fears. What is this safety-net I desire? Be there for me. Never turn your back on me. Reassure me that my words are safe with you, that you will treasure and protect my words, that you will be kind to my words. These words— they are like growing children struggling, trying to find their way in the world. Be here for me when I screw up, when I lose patience and think I’ll never be a good-enough writer. Never turn your back on me. Share tears with me. Share smiles with me.

Ms. personal essay, when my eyes are closed, please open them. When I have lost my way, please bring me back to where I need to be.