You spent six months wondering if it was your fault. No, it wasn’t. It never was. I know you’re tired of telling yourself goodnight and buying flowers to put on your desk to feel special. It’s fucking scary to let someone in when the fence you’ve built around your heart just started growing jasmine and you were about to paint that fence pink. If you like it there, you don’t have to knock it down. Just let someone talk to you through it until you’re ready. I know you’re waiting for someone to ask you deep questions or how you got that scar on your forehead. You’re a hopeless romantic, you’re waiting for that movie love…anything short of that, you are disappointed. If I could find someone that can look past your blue eyes and yearn to know everything about you, I think you might feel a little more at home. But you don’t know where home is and a man with a soft touch won’t help you find it right away. Go paint the fence around your heart pink and tell yourself that you are beautiful before you fall asleep. Because you spent six months wondering if it was your fault and I won’t let you spend another day wondering if you are someone’s first thought in the morning. You are mine and mine you will be until a man is willing to cross the universe for you. That’s what you deserve.
There will come a time when you want to cut off all your hair. Do it. Realise that the thing you want rid of doesn’t lie in the long curls that frame your face so perfectly. Live with short hair for a while. It’ll grow.
You won’t always want to talk to people. That’s okay. When it’s late and you hear your friends talking in the next room, you don’t have to join them. You’re allowed your solitude. It makes company sweeter and it teaches you how to survive alone. You will need that skill.
In the winter, you’ll believe that nothing will ever grow again. You’re wrong. Every year, London looks like it’s on its last legs, wheezing through those last cold days in March. Every year, spring comes like an explosion and the city shakes off its sleep.
Mundane problems will get the better of you sometimes. Don’t worry. Try as you might, life cannot be an endless, beautiful, intense moment. Find comfort in money worries and late trains; they’re a welcome rest in between heartbreaks and breakdowns.
People will call you a cynic, a wry smile on their faces. Pay them no mind. You alone know that you are capable of a love greater than anything they can comprehend. You alone know that you are not willing to sell your identity and respect to the first smirking halfwit to pass by. It is not cynicism. It is reverence for your own vast and fathomless heart, and it makes sense only to love someone who understands that and is awed by it.
You will not always get what you want when you want it. Accept it. Your goals are not set in stone and you are not on a fixed trajectory. Sometimes, life will take its time and you will have to play the long, interminable game. Play it well and with as much grace as you can muster. Live at your own pace.
At night, you will occasionally wake up afraid, wanting to die. Don’t give in. Night plays its tricks, but you are not so easily fooled. Your mind will play its tricks, too. It will make you believe that you’re not who you are, but you must not give in. You take a breath and you tell yourself that you are here. That you always were.