A Letter to Her

Words by Nicole Quy and Emily Fromant, Co-Editors-in-Chief

Healing, or connecting with, my inner child is a prospect I’m very familiar with. But it took until this summer, when I was reflecting upon my past with eating disorders, and the genuinely astonishing amount of hatred I harboured for myself at such a young age , I realised I could not heal my inner child until I momentarily dissociated from her, positioned myself outside of her, and apologised, with the most sincere of hearts, for the pain I had caused her. She was only a child. as the child I once was, not that is in spirit still there, that I could feel my ever cool self-critical self perception begin to soften.

And I want to say so much to her, not least in the hopes that perhaps, one day, I’ll speak of and to my present self in the same tender way, but also because she deserves an apology.

I am sorry I ever convinced you that you weren’t enough, that you had to change. I am sorry for not deleting the stupid blue app, which defined your entire teenage life, dictated which social events you could go to, whether you could afford to add milk to your cereal, and ever made you feel like you weren’t good enough.

20 year old me is going to be the role model needed then, when I was convinced I needed to restrict, pre-occupied with my body chiding myself for purely existing.

To the sweetest, smiliest, happiest little girl who I convinced was too much, who needed to shrink away, I’m coming back for you love, I hope you’re coming back for me.

But I am also afraid of you.

Afraid of how close you are getting. I am scared I am not enough for you. That you will look upon me with your great green eyes and be disappointed. I feel I’ve failed you. That I was never a fairy like you wanted, or a princess, that I hated you so wholly and completely, that I did not deserve you. It is hard to describe how I look at you now. Frozen in a picture frame. You feel so far away, yet so close. You wanted so many things, you deserved so many things. I wish I was stronger for you, I wish I protected you from the things I would say. But I didn’t, and I couldn’t.

But I also feel you would love me anyway.

I would tell you: It’s you that keeps me strong now. That I still love the colour pink. I’d show you all of my shiny piercings - and you’d love them. I am reclaiming all of you; your vulnerability, your wide smile, your shameless singing. I am unlearning the fear I have been conditioned with and learning from you. And you have so much to teach little one, and I am sorry I didn’t know that sooner.

I’d like to speak with you O’lord

Though you may not be awake

Perhaps you’re in Australia

Ignoring what they have to say.

Maybe I sound too harsh already

But I just can’t shake the feeling

That i’m wasting time

By trying to get in touch with you this evening.

I’ve tried every other God I know

They haven’t been much help.

All the Buddhist said is that

I had to sort shit out myself.

You see i’ve tried that style already lord

And as far as I can see.

I may be out of options

If you don’t Answer me.

What do I ask for lord? Exemption?

Forgiveness? Will this ‘return to sender’?

Do you offer any discounts

To a long returning member?

Because I swear I’ve been beside you lord?

At some point or another

I’d even say at points of past

We spent a lot of time together.

It wasn’t my fault, lord

That isn’t why we fell apart

I only wish that someone told me

What you were like, right from the start.

Someone told me, people like me

Just weren’t welcome anymore

It felt that if I someday made it to you

I’d be turned down at the door.

At first it didn’t bother me

It never crossed my mind but,

I was really just a child

And I thought you would be kinder. There were times O’lord, not many

That I thought I’d meet you soon

I never did, but it reminded me

Of some other famous tune.

WORDS BY WILFRED KEMSLEY Creative Writing Columnist

Anyway

The man who said these things about you

Isn’t with us anymore

But in a way I’m still a child

Who may yet wash up at your door. I don’t think I want a miracle

Or some vastly violent sign.

I’d rather hear from you, that what I am Is absolutely fine.

Just fine, that’s all. Not perfect. You know i’ve made mistakes But it would mean a lot O’lord

Just to hear that I’m okay.

Just ok. The same as everyone That you decide to judge. Tell me that there’s nothing wrong with me.

That you won’t hold a grudge. Because when I was just a child really I heard the problem is That bad things happen in the world

Because of who we choose to kiss. Or even who we choose to love

But it never got that far

It seemed this love just didn’t matter. It mattered who was seen inside my car Around the corner from his parents house.

Of course they couldn’t know. Because they really fucking loved you lord!

And so did I. for 15 years or so. I’m sorry lord, I shouldn’t raise my voice.

I just don’t understand. What do you do with all that love

That I’ve been told you’ve always had?

So that’s my question Lord.

That I would like to put to you tonight

And I will pray I hear an answer

Before the frightening morning light. But to be honest lord, I’m just not sure?

Why do I bother asking you?

Like every night, I’ll wake tomorrow

And be no closer to the truth.

Croft/Wilfred Kemsley

But in a way I’m still a child

Who may yet wash up at your door.

STYLE.

Editor: Molly Grogan

Deputy Editor: Mia Flook

Digital Editor: Amy Marshall

Sub-Editor: Bea Buchanan -lee

Even as a child, I recall being opinionated in what I wore. I think I knew what items of clothing I didn’t want to wear, rather than what I did, and I made this blatantly clear to my parents. I can remember one speci c outt I detested so vividly due to the fuss I made at being forced to wear it. Picture a swimming costume, but with sleeves and shorts attached, essentially a child’s-size wetsuit, but with a zip that went from your bellybutton right up to your neck. Fair enough the Mini Boden offender came in various patterns of polka dots or stripes, and all my mum was really trying to do was protect my ghostly pale ginger skin from the sun, but I thought this out t was the epitome of uncool. And I made sure everyone knew that I just wanted to wear a bikini like all the other normal kids in the pool.