#The Anonymous Letters Project

Dear future daughter / son,

I’m 15 now and by the time you’re reading this you should be 15 too; my future self will try to tell you that I was immature and stupid when I wrote it but I think you need to read this because I definitely need to read this.

Dear future daughter / son,

I can’t be walk through this path of glaring fire with you, but god, let me hold your hand, let me reward you with the brightest of stars. It’s okay if you can’t make it to the end of this carpet of misery; it’s okay if you can’t make it halfway through. It’s okay if you feel like giving up even before you’ve started. It’s okay, because there are other paths too. All made of hardships, but maybe you’re not as scared of ice as you are of fire.

Dear future daughter / son,

I always thought “coming out” was too overrated. If you want to, sure, I’ll hug you and kiss your cheeks even though it’ll make you uncomfortable because you’re winning a battle your mother was at the losing end of. But don’t do it for the sake of doing it. Don’t. Bring your girlfriend / boyfriend home and I will embarrass you by telling them the things you did as a child. I’ll treat them as my own. Presuming that you’re heterosexual sounds like being a homophobe to me anyway. However, if you want to keep them a secret, keep them a secret. There’s a certain thrill in watching your child grow up the way you never could, I’m sure.

Dear future son / daughter,

You’re 15. You’ve been told you’re not good enough, not big enough, not smart enough, more times than I can count on my fingertips. I can’t wipe the frown off you, I only have my words to offer. Words often fall short, don’t they? But when they conquer, god, they sit on the throne like they never left. So i’ll tell you this; When the cool boy from the last seat in every classroom tells you you’re fat, tell him how in your dictionary, fat isn’t antonymous to beautiful. Tell him fat isn’t synonymous to beautiful, either. Tell him about how your mother always thought no words in the English dictionary are absolutely synonymous; only beautiful can be beautiful. Tell him you’ve grown up hearing that numbers will never, ever constrict you: your grades, your weight, your height, your shape. Tell him you count beauty in the unstraight line of your smile, tell him you rate your beauty with the number of people you’ve helped that day. Tell him words are broader and brighter than numbers. However, on the days you’re exhausted, you’re also allowed to stick your middle finger out. sometimes words fall short, don’t they?

Dear future son / daughter,

I remember when you had tiny hands. I see now that they’re powerful and aware. I see now that small things grow, and it’s those small things that carry the weight of the world inside of them effortlessly. I know that you’ll sometimes be overwhelmed by the vastness of the world and how less the space between your overstretched arms seems. Never enough. But remember, once your hands were tiny, but they held the most they could and that is the largest you’ll see my chest puff up with pride. Trust me, the smallest things are the most meaningful. I know, because I’ve held you. When the night stretches in front of you like an endless sea of midnight blue, remember that the night was your mother’s favorite part of time. Remember that the night can comfort you, cradle you, but also threaten to disintegrate you with all its terrific explosions. Remember that those explosions are the ones you’ll be told to romanticize. You don’t have to romanticize them.

Dear future son / daughter,

I’m only 15. A lot of what I say is based on secondary experiences. But these pages have read the raw, unedited honesty of 4 am conversations along with tinges of sudden 3 pm guilt people refer to as reality checks. These pages should tell you why 4 am conversations are important. Even if they’re with your own head. These pages should tell you why the sudden 3 pm guilt is referred to as reality checks. The 4 am conversations are used best when spent talking about the things you love. It’s my favorite thing about people—when they talk about the things they love. Humans are vindictive and vicious, but eyes, god, eyes don’t lie. And when someone talks about the things they love? Their eyes look like so much beyond, they look like they’re bubbling with the vastness they’re scared of. You are bubbling with the vastness you’re scared of.

Dear future son / daughter,

Art is important. You don’t have to love it but please acknowledge the art inside of the erratic breathing of your heart after you climb the stairs and the soft brushstrokes in your eyelashes. When you fall in love, paint your blank heart with the colors of pink and red. or of golden. or black. but paint, please paint. When you fall short of words, listen to music. I was once told that music is everything words are not; music makes up for the limited words in your dictionary. So listen to music, let drumbeats explain the noise inside your mind, change it from static to ecstatic. let the wind chimes be your guide; let them lead you into tomorrow. Stars are an overused metaphor, but try to listening to their chiming. Find music in them. but of course, the middle finger is always an option. Remember that your name isn’t just a pretty word your parents fancied, remember that there is a history behind every syllable you say. Remember that words are powerful. Remember that you are more than them.

Dear future son / daughter,

You are more than all of this.

Love,

The coolest mother ever

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