Some times I wish there was a way to talk to my younger self. To assure her that broken hearts, suffering and misplaced place were simply a temporary state. That though it was too late for some things to stay, the truth was that new opportunities were on the way. I would sit her down in her developing emotional state, place my hand on her face and tell her that everything would be ok, as she had love to guide the way. That fantasies and fickle ways of holding on to things too tight had revealed themselves to be more damaging than letting go in so many ways. I am sure she would feel spastic and unsure, afriad that what had been lost was what defined her for sure. I would gently reminder that it was her that made her fate. That there was no song she could not sing from the deepest depths of her heart, nor any words that she could not find to express herself to lay it on the line and then walk away when time had come to move again.
You see, if I knew her like I know myself today, I would be confident that she deserved only the best, and those who had suffocated the breath in her chest or made her feel inadequate or anything less than the best, really served no valuable purpose and provided no reason to feel safe. I would look her in the eyes and say that there was always a reason to be brave, to take care and be open kindness to the make a change and begin again.
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