Written Constellations

Dear Little Me

I am 20 now, with my future ever closer than before. I have met people who have taught me a great deal. I had my heart broken a little too much to know the true value of love. I'd lost almost everything before I'd learned the importance of something. Gone is my naivety, my innocence, of how the world actually works. It is cruel. It is an impasse.

My mistakes have left me scarred like a desk that's been written on for too long. I cannot return the sand settled at the bottom of the hourglass and I cannot rewrite the first chapters of this one big final draft.

I am a drop of water lost in the middle of the sea, a tiny star dotting an entire blanket of a galaxy. I am utterly unfound. Undone.

I miss the times when a patch of land was already a wide playground, or when a wound from playing too much was what I only cried about. I miss the way everything seemed so big and simple, the way every question can be answered by a yes or a no. I miss when I was you. When I smiled a lot, when I believed in everything. Now, I couldn't even believe in myself.

What I ask of you is this: please don't grow up too fast. Sleep when Mom tells you to, tell her I love you every now and then, dance with Dad while he can. Don't hurry up. The world is a big place and you can only cover it little by little as you age. Dream beyond what you hope to achieve but take your time in reaching them. For if there's one thing I've learned, the speed of time is measured by how short or how long; it's how you spend it.

Growing old is inevitable for everyone but no one can ever be a child again.

Live well.