1994

Dear me,

It’s the seventh of November 2017. It’s your birthday; you turned 23.

Somehow, you’re terrified of the number. You’d thought that you would have so much figured out by now. You’re confused, and sometimes it makes you sad, but you’re alright.

You’re alright.

A younger you wouldn’t have believed that you managed to make it. You smile and you laugh like you did then, but it’s far more genuine now. I’m proud of you.

During your 22nd year, you felt worthless sometimes, but you’re no stranger to that. You cried and you worried yourself sick, but you persevered. I hope that you manage to feel that a little less now.

You’ve cut ties with a friend you loved with the entirety of your heart. I know you tried to build that relationship over, but you couldn’t. You were told that it’s so difficult to be your friend. Remember to try your best, but some things aren’t meant to be. And the break drew you closer to a number of other friends, you got in touch with those you hadn’t talked to in long. You made new friends, too.

Last year, you learned to better take opportunities when they presented themselves. You cowered away from less and stepped out more. And there’s so much more I know you want to do; so much more I know you can do. You’re still letting fear hold you back, but remember that إن شاء الله , God willing, you can do anything.

And I pray for you and your family; I pray for health and happiness.

Yours,

 
 


a half an hour piece, not meant to be anything more than a reflection. I hope I won’t have to edit it and take away from its charm (if it has any) because im tired as heck.

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