Dear Past Kathleen:

Learning

To forgive myself.

Or to try.

And make peace.

With what will forever stay

And remain

In so many ways.

Learning

To accept the scars

And stop hiding them

To let them be

An embodiment

A remembrance

Of a lost battle.

Unlearning

To hate

That which I can't change

And whom I can't change

The questions I didn't ask

The patience I didn't have

The fear I shouldn't have had.

Learning

To live with my choices

And my regrets

Because its what I have left

Its what is now mine

And mine to keep.

Learning

To adore my weak heart

And my kind spirit

Controlled by my selfish mind.

Learning

To love myself

Every part of self

Even the ones gone from me

And the ones I can't get back.

Learning

To be in love

With my loneliness

And my obscurity

Unfathomable as it may be.

Learning

To smile when I can 

And laugh

And try

To be human again.

Unlearning

To be numb

To shut people out

To instead embrace emotions

And allow myself

Another chance at being crushed.

Learning

To take it all in

And weep it all out

And not be ashamed

To cry deeply

Of pain and wounded pride.

Learning

To be one

With my sadness.

Dear Past Kathleen:

You are ten now and you feel lonely. Your close friend is dating him, the guy you love, who just treats you like a friend. But this isn't love, you are still young. 
Don't cry, the problems have not yet begun.


You are thirteen now. About to sit your final paper and you're concerned about him. This one feels real oh but the pain of unrequited love. You have sung along to love songs, and since your best friend made you aware of your music talent, you are now making them. With tears in your eyes. This still, is not love. You are going for therapy, at this tender age. Mum is a psychologist she thinks it's helpful but it's just making you realize how depraved you are of "fatherly love". Mr. Kip assures you that it can be solved and not to burn the bridge just yet; but there was never one in the first place. You say you closed that door; he wonders why and you can't explain.
You will never stop feeling this way.



You are fifteen now. In a "prestigious" school where everyone is fake and you are completely misunderstood. You walk alone around the field on Saturdays to think. And on Sunday afternoons you sit on a rock under that tree facing the wall, write in your journal and sing painfully against the noise of the passing cars. Then you take out your blade and with careful precision inscribe on yourself the emotion you are feeling today, each week, it’s a new kind of despair. You watch your body bleed as a reflection of your soul and weep silently. Nobody knows. Nobody cares. Everyone thinks you are weird and unashamed. Only they don't encourage you to own it. You think about dying, how peaceful it would be if you could just end it. You ask yourself if anyone will ever notice, if anyone will ever stare long enough to see the death in your big expressionless eyes. If anyone will ever love you. 
Baby girl, this is not your worst, this is just rehearsal.


Seventeen. You have a boyfriend now. You are in love. True love. He comes all the way to see you, he even met mum. Mum likes him too. One rainy day, he proposed behind your house and asked you to be his future wife. Of course you said yes. Finally someone loves you. His intentions are genuine; you can see it in how he looks at you and holds you in his arms. He writes you letters in school & gets his whole class to 'poxie' on your birthday, and includes the basketball team gosh it’s been a long time coming right? And how he insists on one last kiss at the door before you leave and at the stage until the 'makanga' gets angry. He makes you happy. You are happy.
This is your first love. Last man to love you ever so purely. Remember that for love sake.


You are now eighteen. In a new school, about to finish your final paper. You become a lesbian because men don't make sense anymore. You broke up with him after two years, he was becoming boring. And you need excitement. Besides…. you've always been interested in girls why suppress it now? You have a girlfriend. You even fell in love. It's real. It's not like they say about homosexuals, the feelings are real and even stronger because she understands, not like a man. She listens to you; she's beautiful, she's smart, if you could you'd marry her and have a life together. And in bed she knows what to do and her touch is so soft. You'd pick her any day. 
This doesn't last. I wish you knew that.


Nineteen now. Out of school. Taking on this new life. You lost your virginity, to your ex's best friend. And you don't feel guilty for sleeping with your best friend's man. You fall for everyone now, you are trying everything. The guy you thought was yours just got another girl knocked up, fuck love. Fuck men. You are going to beat them at their game, no feelings now. Only man that loved you was the man you left for a woman, you can't get him back now. But people love you at parties because you're a good dancer. So you go, and drink and smoke, and if someone is lucky he gets to fuck you on the rooftop. Then you meet HIM. The one that makes you alive. He makes you laugh and he knows what he's doing but you don't stop him. He's the one you're not supposed to fall in love with. 
You're living for the moment. This is your reckless phase.


Twenty and pregnant. That's your first thought as you stare at that test. You're failing in school. The father probably already lost your number along with his phone at another party. You're broke. Mum will kill you, dad will bury you. There's no other choice. And this is your choice, not his. It makes you feel like you're in charge of things. You're not letting a man influence your decision; you're not like other girls. You take what's remaining of your heart and throw it away like the baby in those sanitary towels. You've watched ‘How to Get Away with Murder’ and ‘Hannibal’; you know how it’s done. You've seen how their cold hearts live with it, you'll live too. 
This marks a new beginning for you, an awakening, and a big change in how you view things. You just don't know it yet.



Finally twenty-one. Legal in all states of the world. Life is dark for you. You feel ten times older and ten times distant. You think back to that tree in form one and it saddens you that you're still that same girl. But you messed up real big this time; you don't think you can handle this. You went to see him, to talk, but you couldn't. He leaves you speechless. He drains you of your senses and you can't say no. You love him. This is the dangerous love. It makes no sense. He just told you that he wanted to keep it, now, after six months of dealing with this shit alone. You have a mental breakdown. You weep for hours and hours and the pain you've bottled up for months comes pouring. This is what rock bottom feels like.

I cannot promise you that it gets better, because from my end of the pen life is made of shit and only shit. I don't know if you will ever find love or if you will ever be absolved of your sins. But you will laugh eventually. You'll understand yourself and then have more confusion thrown at you. It is what you will discover is the cycle of life. And it goes on. And you just go with it.

Dear past Kathleen, you are stronger than you think. You feel alone in a world full of seven billion people. You despise what you have become. You think you have done it all, but girl you don't even know. You are beautiful. And you are yourself, something you can always be proud of. You have made mistakes; unforgettable mistakes. You need to forgive yourself. Forgive others. Forgive everyone. Grieve if you must but smile in the end. Acknowledge your humanity and your lack of it all the same. Accept your new reality and unlearn your old habits. Re-group with your mind, soul and body and realize that you, and only you, are in charge of your happiness.




Sincerely,

Present Kathleen.