A Letter of Love to Myself

Dear me, 

I love you, to put it bluntly. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone else but it’s a fragmented kind of love that knows its flaws.

I love your semi-tanned skin. I love that you look just as good browned from the Arizona sun as you do pale and shivering in the midst of a New York winter. I love the white lines on your left arm. I love the little scars on your wrist that number in the twenties now. I love your eyes and their dark brown color. I love your body - I worship your body. I love the bumpy scar on your thigh from darker times. Your body is a reminder of everything you’ve gone through - a permanent crime scene.

I think you deserve happiness. I think you shouldn’t accept anything less than happiness. I think you’ve been tricked into thinking what he did was love, into blaming yourself for being a victim. I think you wash their fingerprints off in the shower. I think if you don’t think about it, it didn’t happen. I think if you start remembering each time they’ve hurt you in detail, it reinforces your strength like burning and beating metals into steel.

I am so proud of you. I am brought to tears when I think about how far you’ve come. You have done so much and touched so many people. You spin webs that connect countless people in love, struggle, and faith. When I look at you sometimes I get overwhelmed thinking about how much you’ve changed. You have always been perfect but I never could have imagined how incredible you are today. You are anything but ordinary and you deserve to be reminded of that everyday.

You are sunshine on a cloudy overcast day.   You are a candle in a blackout. You are lightning shooting out into brilliant branches. You are the thunder that follows, reminding people that substance and power are intertwined by your beautiful illumination. You are everything I have ever dreamed of and more.

I write this because these are all true statements and you deserve to hear them. You deserve happiness and respect.