Pinned
as much as i joke about wanting to kill myself, and as much as my mental health truly is suffering at almost all times, one thing i can never truly ignore about myself is my sheer perseverance. like. my whole life has been a series of "i'll never make it to [age]." 16. 18. 21. and here i am now, 3 days away from turning 22, and all i can think is wow. not only did i make it, i surpassed it. and now when i look to the future there isn't any deadline that i'm quickly approaching. there isn't any sudden dropoff that i'm waiting to reach. there's just more road.
i survived far, far more shit at every age than anyone should ever have to survive in their lifetimes. i carry some of the most traumatic events anyone can ever experience with me every single day. and it's hard, and they're heavy. but i carry them anyways. because 12 year old me kept going. she carried them, too, and she self harmed to release them. and 16 year old me carried them. and he self harmed to release them, but he also tried to stop. he fought so hard to end a 4 year long addiction. and 17 year old me carried them, and he realized he couldn't fight alone. and he asked for help. and he got it. and it was scary and it was hard and some of the people who were supposed to help ended up giving him even more to carry. but he met people that changed our life, even four years later, when we don't even remember their names. and 18 year old me carried it too, and they couldn't fight the addiction, but they still tried. and 21 year old me carried it, and carried the weight of the world on their shoulders. 21 year old me carried the weight of those memories and fought that addiction and they won. and they took on the burdens of others too, fighting against an increasingly hostile world. and 21 year old me carried me at 12, at 16, at 17, 18, 20. 21 year old me carried every version of ourselves that fought so hard to make it, and they made it too. and they have passed those responsibilities off to me.
and here i am, 22, remembering being so small, and so young, and so afraid, yet refusing to give up. and i remember thinking to the future and seeing only darkness. and now here i am, carrying my past, looking towards my future, fighting for my life and fighting for the little girl, the young boy, the elder child that fought for me.
and i do still carry those traumas. i still cry sometimes out of nowhere. i still get flashbacks. i can still feel all of their hands on me when i lay too still at night. but i also carry all the love of my past. i can still feel the sun on my face, i can still smell the stale cigarette smoke of my grandpa's truck. i can still remember the warmth of his body against mine in his cold hospital bed as we cuddled and watched horror movies. i carry that love with me every day of my life.
i cannot wait to be 25. to be 30. 40. 50. 100. i can't wait to be carried by older me, to finally be able to rest. i cannot wait for the day that we all get to rest, and none of us, not our brothers or sisters or siblings, have to fight anymore. i look forward to feeling the sun on my face once more.
i love you, past selves. and i love you, future selves. and i love you, me, right now. and i love you, reading this. even when you can't find it within to love yourself, i love you. we all do.
