letters

letters

Dear Friend,

In the past few weeks, I’ve been doing a lot of self-evaluation. There’s a lot I don’t like about my life, so I’ve decided to change, as I see it as a waste of time to sit around loathing my lense to the world. I’m on a journey to reclaim the happiness I lost in the wake of a wave of trauma and love being myself again. As I do so, I hope that I can write to you a bit about my miniature epiphanies and share any advice that I’ve discovered and put into use for myself. I do have a few in this letter, actually!

The first, and perhaps the most useful one for you, friend, is to stop worrying so much about what you think of yourself. Everyone is yapping about how you need to stop caring what others think and love yourself, but nobody talks about how trying to love yourself leads to stress about how you think of yourself, which just makes being you so much harder. Instead of loving you, which requires you to separate yourself from... yourself, why don’t you just enjoy being yourself? You don’t get to be anyone else, of course, and there are so many lovely things about you, I’d certainly love to be you if I wasn’t me.

To love being you, of course, you have to love things you do, things that alter your experience and differentiate it from others. One of the best ways to do this is indulgence. Indulging in your interests, tastes, wants, and passions creates your world. What each of these subjects means is entirely different from person to person, dear, but it is so important to wield each wisely to craft your life the way you want it. You are more in control of your experiences than you might imagine.

If you feel like you are not, I’d advise taking some time away from technology and spend time getting to know yourself. I know that this is annoying and repetitive, but it’s coming from a well-intentioned heart. It’s easy to get lost scrolling through social media, lose track of time, and let go of the reins you have on life. It’s even easier to lose your own opinions to what everyone else says you should feel. Set aside time each evening and park your phone somewhere. Play music and dance, create art, write about your feelings and embed them in characters, explore your interests, write an essay on something you’re passionate about. Or perhaps these are just the things I enjoy doing. What would you rather do?

If you’d like to write me back, I’d adore hearing from you. You can contact me via tumblr [@frockhag] if you’d like to start a conversation. I’d love to listen to your thoughts and offer any help I can if you need.

I hope something comforts you today.

—dear friend, by kayla

You appeared to me suddenly

and took over my whole world

by posing as a loving oasis

in which I saw nothing amiss.

I was lured into your promise

of completing my journey

but I somehow didn’t realise

you meant that as my demise.

Giving you the keys to my heart

is something I’ll always regret

but now I am far more aware

of which parts in me to share.

You didn’t warn me when you left

as if I was nothing in your eyes,

just another lonely traveller

who fell for your illusion of colour.

But you didn’t stop and consider

that people can bloom from pain

so keep your mirage of love

and watch me grow further above.

—mirage, by rani

I used to believe that love was overrated, a perpetual goal that was never meant to be taken seriously but accidentally became classed as one of the most important things in everyone's lives, no matter who you were.

I used to think love mainly consisted of untimely commitment, stolen kisses, and experiences judged by how quickly or how far they can spread.

I used to think love was unreasonable, full of a hope that only worked until you learned the truth and realised that this idea of intimate gestures and coordinating outfits wasn't worth the hype that media painted it out to be.

I used to be wrong.

It took me days of regret, months of realisation, constant self-correction, restless nights filled with fluctuating self-esteem, and the odd existential crisis here and there to figure out what love can truly be.

Love, I decided, can manifest itself in the most peculiar of ways: an insanely consistent set of top grades, forever immaculate acrylic nails, effortless and immediately recognisable style, immortal inside jokes, or even a quiet appreciation that goes unnoticed by most. It can be seen by those who aren't looking for it and missed by those who are because it remains hushed, not needing the validation of popularity.

Love, I decided, is not something to be defined by mere alphabets. As if being enigmatic and ever-changing wasn't enough, love is also wholly subjective and dependant on the individual. To some, love is the warmth of a genuine smile or intertwined fingers on a cold day but, to others, love is sharing a body spray or explaining the notes from a missed class because familiar metaphors work better than new analogies.

Love, I decided, is unpredictable. Some can lose themselves in the lyrics of a song where others can climb inside books and forget their worries; some can call their friends at ridiculous times and know they'll have someone to listen; some can arrange a time and place knowing that they'll do absolutely nothing, a friendly presence being the most important thing; and some can never utter words that reveal their inner emotions but reflect them with their facial expressions or actions instead.

Equally natural and mysterious, love is a term used both too commonly and not commonly enough.

It's not as simple as a sentiment, it's a lifestyle that can't be categorised or easily recognised. Not limited to people, love can be expressed for just about anything we can - and can't - fathom. Regardless of whether it's circle theorems, midday naps, exhausting shopping hauls, or staring at the stars on a cloudless night, love is there with you.

It follows you around like a shadow forged from promises and happiness, laced with hope and healing and learning curves. It festers, but it's not unwanted. It doesn't have to touch you to fill you with power, with confidence, and sometimes, with a sense of overwhelming sadness that cannot be described.

It's weird.

Ultimately, love isn't all about being comfortable, it's more like accepting that you're uncomfortable but managing to function nonetheless. In contrast to popular belief, love isn't when you never feel upset and always feel on top of the world, it's when you know you're free to be melancholy because your sadness isn't what defines you. Because, like it or not, love is what keeps the world spinning.

Of course, love is not two dimensional; very few things are and abstract concepts can never be one of them, not as long as thoughtful beings like us are around to question, confuse, and complicate. Like most complex ideas, love can be painful and bitter and far more hurtful than even the sharpest of weapons, but it is always there, shifting and adapting, ready to battle on our behalf as soon as we believe in its existence.

So, why don't we?

Why don't we believe in love?

—why don’t we believe in love?, by rani

tell me all about you

what you’re thinking of when the light hits

you up there, framed by gold

me down here, seeking more

textures illumine

like a blessing with kaleidoscope hues

for us, a view exquisite —

forever, a curse for you

up close with essence distilled

everything is nothing

but pigments and molecules

my life worth a nickel

your smile - seven figures

gilded by precious metal

your empty eyes reflect a soft glow

but with the line, an abyss,

from afar, it’ll suffice

to gaze upon you

lasting beauty preserved

at the end of time. but at the end of day,

the lights go off

and the gates, they shut

no one can touch you,

but no one can touch you.

—the loneliness of dried paint, by nicole

My room smells of death,

Maybe a warning received too late.

The skin softens,

But does not heal,

When you do not show up,

When this is the

32nd time I write about you,

When it took my 4 hours to get out of bed on wednesday.

The skin loosens,

Makes space for


Another

Set of heartbeats,

For another palm that I can doodle

Stars on,

Only what’s necessary. Think pockets.

How convenient not to have to bring a bag,

How they all have a cut,

Hold the weight of another,

How on the good days,

I’m a string,

How I think I’ve only ever been truly kind

To you

(and my grandmother)


I have no kind left in me,

Only the sleepiness,

Trips to the coffee shop.

I chip my nailpolish when I want to stop the anxiety,


I give myself something I know how to fix.

I’ve always wanted an older brother

So tell me

About your sister,

About times when you wished she never existed,

Tell me how I can compress the tissue,

Mold the bone

To fit

Into a cardboard box, we can call it a rocketship

If you want.

How do you deal with change that has not happened yet?

When I vacuum,

I do not think about you,

I look at you,

Wait for you to finish

Tying your shoelaces,

What do I do now,

That I don’t miss you?

—sing me a prayer, by alice

i. hometown

"Can you imagine a life here?"

It was a warm summer evening and we were sitting in the dimly lit university campus, in the centre of our hometown corner. The stars were fighting for spotlight on the dark sky, but the city rustle scared them away.

She moved her dark hair from her face and looked at me, waiting for an answer.

I chuckled. "No. Definitely not." A knowing smile spread across her face.

She stood up, grabbed my hand and started to walk away from the campus back under the street lights. I didn't dare to break the silence, the moment floated in time and I looked at the gentle curves of her face. We walked all the way to a broken fountain and she urged me to sit down.

"I feel so restricted. Rules are too intense here. I'm glad someone gets it."

I smiled. "I agree. Well, we have the entire future ahead of us."

"We do."

A few hours later we were at the bus station. I saw my bus approaching in the distance.

"We'll see each other again?"

"Of course." She replied and hugged me. When I got on the bus and turned around to wave, she was gone.

ii. unfamiliar

A school trip took us to an unfamiliar city. Everyone but the two of us was asleep at 2 am.

She took the bag of candy from my grip and put it on the cabinet next to the bed. "I want to go outside."

"Are you insane? We'll get caught."

She moved closer and studied my face. "Don't you want to live a little?"

I could hear my heart beating as her eyes looked into mine. "Yeah."

"Let's go, then. I noticed a side exit on the right."

It was dead silent outside, but she was beaming. She guided me to a clearing further away from the hotel and we relaxed on the soft grass.

"You can see the stars here," I said. The sky was full of little white specs, finally having their time to shine.

iii. new normal

I fell for a different girl in a different city a year after I said goodbye to our hometown, but the new girl had short ginger hair and was looking at the stars with someone who she liked more than me.

The three of us were having a sleepover, but I felt excluded and walked inside to make some muffins as an attempt to brush off the empty feeling of unrequited.

"You don't want to be here, do you?"

I recognized her voice and turned around. There she was, with her dark hair and charming smile. More accurately, the version of her I saw last. The present her was back in our hometown, living a life I wasn't a part of anymore.

"How are you still with me?" I asked and still hoped for an explanation as to why she was on my mind after so long.

"I just want you to feel happy. Free."

I let out a bitter laugh as I put the dough into the mixer and her face dropped to a frown.

"I don't know if that's possible anymore."

She sighed. "I get it, you don't want me around."

"No, wait-" I grasped for her, but all that was left was an empty room and the sound of the mixer twirling.

iv. far away

The last time I saw her was far away from our hometown, on a train ride in the London underground. The midnight train was half empty and I was returning back to my hotel after my first day of exploring the city. A mix of tired and excited was flowing through my veins and I sank into the seat, feeling content.

I noticed her in the corner of my eye after the few remaining people exited the train. I stared in surprise as she made her way to me and stood in front of the exit.

"I see you're having fun." She leaned against the glass and buttoned up her black coat.

"You're right, I am."

She twirled a thread around her finger. "I'm glad. I know you always wanted to go to London."

A few minutes passed with the train rumble filling the distance between us. She looked the same but felt different. I saw her more like a stranger than I ever did before.

The robotic voice from the speaker announced the next stop and she straightened her posture. Right before the train stopped, we locked eyes.

"I found a place where I can imagine living. I hope you did as well." I whispered.

She put on a smile, but I could tell she was being honest. "I knew you would. I did too."

The doors opened and she got lost in the sea of people rushing through the station, truly leaving what we had behind. On the next stop, I did the same.

—the 3 times she said she’d leave, and the 1 time she actually did, by kian

the feeling of belonging is one of those things that's difficult to explain, but makes perfect sense when you experience it. it tugs at your mind with urgency, softly whispering i’m supposed to be here and how did you never find this place before and i don't want to leave

it engulfed me during the late evening in central london, with people still buzzing around me. i floated in a cloud of wonder and excitement, ignoring the consequences of walking around all day. after years of hoping and waiting, i found it. i found a place where instead of wanting to escape, i felt overwhelmed with wanting to explore and learn every crevice of these streets. the parks, the shops, the people, the english spilling from my tongue. i feel free, i thought, i feel free.

the melancholy hit after the fourth day, when i watched the buildings become smaller and smaller through the plane window. a piece of my heart stayed somewhere on an underground train, but a sparkle of new found hope followed me back and settled into the empty space.

—my heart stayed in london, by kian

by ally

It’s so easy to feel small.

It’s easy when you’re standing still in the middle of a moving crowd. Everyone around is pushing past you, pushing by you. They have their own agendas and own priorities; a million varying places to go, things to get done, people to see. Having conversations: talking about where they just were or where they’ll go next. Rushing and bumping into you. Movement and noise and chaos all around. And you’re so very still, quiet, and stuck in the middle of it all.

It’s easy when you’re in the window seat of a jam-packed airplane, watching the plane take off. Being pressed backwards into the seat as the plane moves faster, the wheels lifting from the ground, and watching as the usually gigantic world shrinks smaller, smaller, smaller. Watching cars and houses and buildings turn into miniature versions of themselves, and then slowly fade away as you lift up into the clouds. Then suddenly, in a couple of moments, the clouds that always seem light years from your touch are just out of reach. You’re separated by a window, and that’s it. One foot to your right and you’d be engulfed in the sky that always seems so distant, so far.

It’s easy when you’re laying on your back in an open field, staring up at the stars as the sky grows progressively darker. More and more stars appearing by the minute, starting as tiny specks and brightening every second. You feel small when you’re thinking about how big each one of those specks must be up close, and comparing it to how small they look right now. It’s easy when you wonder if they ever look up at you too, and how absolutely tiny you must look to all of them. When you wonder if they could even see you at all.

It’s easy when you think about the actual odds of you existing at this singular moment in time. Your life is 1 in 6 billion potential “you’s” that could have been here instead. 6 billion differing appearances, personalities, opinions, mannerisms. Compare that to the 6 billion possible “them’s” for the person sitting next to you. And the next person, and the next person. Everything could have ended up vastly different if even one of those outcomes had changed. All those odds and you ended up here, in this moment, in this place, at this time, as this person.

In those moments, you slip so effortlessly into feelings of isolation, and insignificance. It’s so easy to feel small when it’s you against the world. When you consider yourself in relation to the entire universe. When you wonder what significance you could possibly hold when everything around you is so much bigger.

But while you may be small compared to the world and all the galaxies, it does not mean you are any less significant, or any less powerful. You may be physically small but you are complex and beautiful. You have millions of parts and pieces intertwined and inter-working: you are made up of tiny little atoms that make up who you are and help you function. Without them, you wouldn’t be able to do half the things you do; without them, you wouldn’t be you.

Just think — you can’t see those atoms very easily but they are still necessary. Maybe you’re just one of the universe’s atoms. Sometimes unseen, but always important. Without you, the world wouldn’t fit together quite as well. Without you, the universe wouldn’t be its true self.

You may be physically small but you have feelings and emotions deeper than any star. You care about others to the point where it hurts you when they are hurting. You sometimes feel joy so intense that you physically can’t stop yourself from smiling, and throw your arms around the person closest to you. You can feel love so strongly it feels like it’s trying to break it’s way out of your chest; love so strong that you feel as though you could never feel any other feeling for as long as you live. You think deeper than any of the planets, recognizing your existence and your passions and your purpose. You still break, but unlike the stars, you feel the hurt. You conquer the pain and the sadness and you use it to grow and learn and propel yourself forward into a better, brighter you.

You may be physically small but you sure can make a big difference in the universe around you. Your life has come into contact with countless other lives. Every single person in your life would change if you hadn’t met them. Your mom wouldn’t have someone to care for with a deep, uniquely personal love, and guide through life until you’re grown enough to do it on your own. Your little sister wouldn’t have anyone to look up to, and wouldn’t have realized her passions in

life without seeing you pursue yours first. Your childhood best friend would not have had nearly as many laughs while growing up if you hadn’t been there to laugh first. Every single person you’ve smiled at, complimented, or simply spoken to in your lifetime is different because of you. You may be small but you have the power to change the life of anyone you encounter.

There are many times where you feel you are too small and the world is too big to handle. But in reality, your little impact on someone you know can lead to another, and to another, and soon enough you’ve changed the life of someone halfway across the world, even if you never realize it. Little ripples in a big ocean still change the direction the water flows.

You may be physically small but you’ve got a galaxy’s worth of significance inside of you.

No matter how big the universe is and how many moving pieces there are, you still have significance. The world may make you seem small but in so many ways it is proven that you are not.

One day, you’ll recognize your significance, and realize just how small the world is in relation to you

—a galaxy’s worth, by helena