A Love Letter to Myself

Dearest Mia,
I am writing this letter to you, love, so that we remember. The past one year has not been kind to us. Why, you demand. Because we stopped being kind to ourselves. Something shattered and the shards remained buried deep within us; corrupting us, killing us.

We have been so sad. Medication barely helped. After a point, it was easier to give in than to fight. But, remember this, remember this always, depression is not your friend. Depression is a vile, beautiful woman than seduces you into her smothering embrace. She manages to be both the most wonderful and the most horrible thing to happen to you. Wonderful because she persuades you to stop trying, to give into the pain. Her embrace is so easy to get lost into and who doesn’t like easy?

But easy and good are not the same and we failed to understand that.

Depression makes you hate. It makes you hurt; it makes you want to hurt others. It is manipulative and masochistic. You take a knife and cut yourself believing that you are doing yourself and the world a favour. That’s depression.

But, love, you are not doing anyone a favour. You are giving in to hatred and when hating others stops being enough, you turn to yourself. You turn on yourself.

We know each other the best, don’t we? We know where it hurts the most. We know what hurts the most. And we attack relentlessly. The worst part is that we believe that we deserve this cruelty.

Love, I want you to remember that you are human and you are one of the good ones. People love you because of the bits they get to see. We see the entire, completed puzzle and yet we don’t love ourselves.

It’s high time we learn how. I am trying to learn how, you should too.

We have to remember to be kind to ourselves. Kiss that smooth palm, caress that soft cheek, indulge, be affectionate. Forgive.

We must learn to look into the mirror without feeling the bile rise.

We have to stop apologising for looking ugly when we don’t and when we do. There is a certain beauty in ugly that we should learn to notice.

We have to stop apologising for wanting, for needing, for craving.

We must stop apologising for existing.

You, darling, are not a waste of space. If you can convince so many others, why can’t you fucking convince yourself?

You are not the evil incarnate. I’m sure being the evil incarnate takes a lot more than mere jealousy.

Remember, you are worthy of kindness, of compassion, of concern and care. You are worthy of love. You won’t destroy every heart you touch. You won’t hurt every person you talk to. Good things can come out of being associated with you. And your mother sure as hell doesn’t wish you were never born. Even if you do, at times.

Believe me. You are worthy of love, of friendship, of puppies, of birthdays, of a kind smile, of miracles, of luck and of life. You are worthy.

Please believe me.

Love,
Mia.

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5 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Claudia Hernandez
    Sep 05, 2016 @ 21:12:17

    Even though this letter was for yourself I felt as if it was talking directly to me. Thank you so much for sharing this, it helped a lot.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  2. Mahima
    Sep 06, 2016 @ 15:28:12

    Damnit 😥

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  3. leannaatc
    Sep 08, 2016 @ 00:33:29

    This was beautifully written and I admire your bravery for posting it.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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