Your Past Won’t Define Your Present And Future, But Here’s What To Learn From It

Painting by  Victor Fota

Painting by Victor Fota

Dear future me, I wanted to remind you of me, remember how I wanted to be a rockstar princess? Do you remember how I practiced saying no in front of the mirror? Do you remember when I skied so fast down a hill the liftie called me a speed demon and I got angry because I’m a rockstar princess not a speed demon! Do you remember my friends? I made a list in my diary, there’s Cindy, Heather, Georgia, Michelle and Jessica, although sometimes I don’t like Jessica but I like her right now, oh and also I have a crush on Sam and I want to marry him because he carried my backpack off the bus for me yesterday and I thought that was sweet, do you still own all the teddy bears I love? Do you still decide to sleep with one teddy but then feel sorry for the rest and sleep with them all? Do you still own Doggie? Do you remember how I lost him in Italy in a taxi but then the taxi company found it and shipped it back to Australia? That was the day I realised there are good people in the world, people that take time to ship a toy back to a distraught 6 year old who thought she lost it forever. Do you still believe in good people? Do you still make flower dresses for my fairy friends? I wonder what you look like, I bet I’m going to be really beautiful one day, I hope you are, big people are so cool, I’m kinda scared them but I think I will be a good big person.

Dear past me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry you dreamed, I wish you didn’t, because I have disappointed you, I’m sorry, I’m not a rockstar princess, I’m sorry I get you up at 5am from Monday to Friday, drive an hour in the cold dark, get to work and spend the whole day dreaming to be somewhere else; I mundanely pack groceries routinely in one of those chain store shopping centres, I’m sorry I drive home 8 hours later on Monday to Friday singing the same song about suicide on repeat and then hating myself even more because I know I’d never have the guts to swallow that bottle of pills I hide under my beside table, I’m sorry the first time I really needed to say no I didn’t, I’m sorry I don’t ski anymore, I have two weeks of holiday a year and I need to put all the money I make towards the mortgage, I’m sorry the friends you wrote about in your diary are a memory fading faster than the fog on my car window, you always dreamed about the man you would marry and I’m sorry you got one, one that spends all the money you make on girls and cigarettes, only coming home for when he cannot find prey to entertain him, I still have your teddy bears, but they are mouldy from being left in the black plastic garbage bags for more than 20 years, I’m sorry I don’t enjoy birthdays anymore, I’m sorry I hid in the toilet and cried when I saw 37 candles on the cake, letting everyone celebrate but me, I’m sorry I’ve burnt down all the bridges you carefully constructed, I’m sorry you are exposed to the naked truth when you get older, that stuffed dog supposedly sent Italy, that wasn’t even the same dog, it was sent from your mum from the local post office, I’m sorry I don’t believe in fairies anymore or good people, I realised a long time ago that everyone has a demon inside them and they like to unleash it on the insecure and vulnerable, I’m sorry I don’t believe there is any goodness in this world, I’m sorry I get up every morning and change clothes with my eyes closed in case I get a glance of a body I am ashamed to be in.

I miss you, I miss your effervescent smile when you saw something as simple as a flower, I miss that you saw some goodness in every person, in every tree and leaf, I miss the dulcet tones of your laugh, I haven’t heard it in a while, you and your love for life only seem like some ethereal dream lived long ago, in another universe, I miss that you dreamed, without fear or worry, that you had the audacity to say what you felt without apology, I miss how your eyes twinkled when you laughed, how your internal sunshine was so bright if it were any brighter it would radiate from your skin, how you ran with such determination not to fall, and when you did fall, you picked yourself up and kept on running, how you chose your friends by how much fun you had with them, how you cried when you saw a dead animal even as small as a mouse.
You should stay afraid of big people, you’re better than I ever will be, it is people like you that make this ephemeral world a more beautiful place to be stuck in.

Dear past me, don’t grow up, and when you have the misfortune to, follow your heart with reckless courage, scream what matters to you on top of mountains, savagely go after your passion without fear, don’t turn out like me.

Submitted to ArtParasites by Raani Jade Nichols