to a previous self,

I still visit my old journal from time to time as if stepping briefly through a portal, and on every occasion I discover some new or hidden truth about myself. It is as if I am looking across the mirror at you- you, with those smaller glasses and goofy smile, who did not yet care about the deep truths of the universe. You stayed up late reading young adult novels and believing in other worlds, I push myself through nonfiction when I can and try my best to become the person I believe I should be.

We both think about the future often, but we regard it differently: you see it as a new mystery, a puzzle to solve; for me, the future is something that is always too far off into the distance- I cannot quite make out the shape of it. You are so unsure of yourself; you look in the mirror and see someone who is changing, and that’s okay. At night when you are still so afraid of the darkness, I beg you, reach up and touch the stars your sister painted on the ceiling for you. Feel that light inside, carry it with you like those books that you just can’t put down. Keep writing to me knowing that someday I will smile back at you from the other side of this ocean. We are gazing up at the same moon.

And we will both forget the past, gradually, inevitably, seemingly all at once. But the past will not forget us- the temporary longings, dreams, what we all envisioned our futures to be. These things change, but our past doesn’t. It waits for us- it sits inside our desk drawer, asking to be read again.

love,

the person that you have become