You, Miss Nikki are a beautiful, adventurous soul. I was thinking about you today. Thinking about the walks we used to take in the woods, down that old dirt road, through town, early in the morning, alone and exploring old buildings and abandoned farms. You are such an explorer. I’m so sorry they make you feel poorly about that. I’m sorry they had to make up rumors about you to make it make sense to them. I’ll tell you a secret though. Are you ready?

They are jealous of you, intimidated by your bravery, even. Seriously. Don’t scoff. That may be hard for you to wrap your head around, but it’s absolutely true. You always want to learn more, to see everything, to explore new paths. That isn’t what boring, basic, afraid people do. Instead, those people stay close to home, stick to a script and lash at you because it’s all they can do. It’s what they know. A survival skill for the weak and cowardly. They are afraid of what they don’t understand, and I hope you eventually learn what a gift it is to not be understood by boring, awful people. It means you aren’t one of them. That, dear girl, is worth celebrating.

So walk those tree covered paths, read your books by that creek a few blocks away that somehow always feels like a fantasy land tucked away just for you. Because it is for you. All of that freedom, beauty and peace is for you. Don’t let them make you feel anything less than spectacular about it.

Explore those river banks, carefully, but completely. Live. Learn. And be the beautiful you that you are. Collect those rocks, bring them home, hide them somewhere safe. Take comfort in them when you are scared and alone. Feel their weight, warm them in your palm and know that you are brave and seen for the beautiful human that you are and that you are destined to become.

I love you.

Originally published on Medium. 

 

4 Replies to “Letters to my younger self – Walks”

  1. Wouldn’t it have been wonderful if one of our alternate futures would have been able to send back a letter? Maybe give us that nudge that changed our viewpoint just enough to truly see what others really thought and not the stories we sold ourselves?

  2. An excellent parting word. So sometimes I want to go back and fix something. What a pity that this is impossible. It’s good that this is impossible. Otherwise, we would have done something that no one else could fix.

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