This one is for you. Sometimes I start writing just to soothe the achey-breakiness that rests within my soul… because writing is a love language that surpasses most. It will always be there, constantly, reminding me that I am loved, no matter how small that amount may be– I am loved. So this one is for you. And I can see you so clearly sometimes: hair thrown up into a messy bun and eyes not shining as bright as they should be. You’re sitting there, grasping at my words like they are the only thing keeping you sane at the moment.
They are the only thing keeping me sane at the moment.
I am 18 years old and I’ll be starting college in the fall. I’m 18 years old and battling things I hope none of you ever experience. I am timid. I am weak. I am shy. I am broken. I hate myself and all my broken parts at 4 a.m. for being vulnerable, for searching for love, for trying to be whole. I am 18 years old… though I can’t wait to be 23. I feel as if that will be the age where I find myself hidden. Actually, at 23 I will be bold. I’ll wear red lipstick and summer dresses to everyday occasions. I’ll welcome all the old broken me’s with open arms because 23 year old me? She knows the struggles I’ll have gone through, the hardships I’ll have won, the love’s lost.
But it astounds me that you still sit there and read the shaky words of a timid 18 year old girl just trying to find herself in this lonely, melancholy world. I’m going to make an effort to be bolder. To write for you doll, not only me. And that’ll be a hard adjustment after learning to love my writing and to write for me. But I’ll do it. I’m going to delve farther inside myself and write heart-breaking truths and get messy in this crazy thing called life.
But this one, this post here, it’s for you babycakes.
It’s so you know you are loved. By me. I love you so much that my heart breaks just knowing that sometimes my words won’t be enough to soften the blows of this cruel world.That there’ll be times you detest me and the things I say. But that’s okay… that’s perfectly fine. I still love you. No matter what.
Now you’re probably thinking to yourself: how could you love me if we’ve never met? Let me tell you a secret sweetcheeks, we are meeting right now. Everytime you sit down and read the words I’ve written I am right there next to you. But I wish that I could run into you at a bookstore and catch you smiling to yourself as you find a hidden gem and the smell of coffee and lost stories perforates around us like fairy dust. I’ll love you then. I wish I could run to your house in the middle of the night as your heart shatters into a million pieces over the one you gave your everything to. I’ll be there to wipe your tears and still your world-shaking sobs. I’ll even love you then, babe. I’ll love you the hardest then.
You are a unique, strange kind of crazy baby.
I think that is way better then saying I love you, then saying that you are more than enough to me.You are a unique, strange kind of crazy and that is what life is about. Be bold. Be insane at times. Love people, but choose the ones that’ll love you back just as hard. You have a choice in the people you keep in your life. And it’s hard to cut the strings once you realize that a relationship is too toxic for you. We like habits honey, but don’t fall into the habit of letting someone make you feel inferior. You are a warrior and I am a worrier. There will never be a day when I don’t worry about you, my strange kind of crazy. So be brave. Be safe. And don’t go searching for Love. Let it find you.
I’m still coming to terms with that myself. You see, I’ve been looking for Love in all the wrong places. I’ve been hoping to find Love lurking in the darkness or sprawled out at the bottom of a mixed drink. I’d hope that Love would hear my ramblings and interrupt my awkward gibberish.
But Love shows up in the back of a bookstore, awkwardly backing up into me so that both our books stumble to the floor. Love wears converse and has a frenzy for the same stories that steal my heart. Love is kind and compassionate and stutters over their words… Love has baffled me with chocolate eyes, a passion for others, and intellectual banter. That’s not something you find. Don’t go searching for it baby, let it fall gently into your lap like an afternoon drizzle.
This post is for you in all your unique, strange kind of crazy
The ones that laugh at life. That wait impatiently for 23. That feel alone in the darkest hours of the night. This is for you. And I’d love to get to know you all individually. I crave to have coffee with you and let our boisterous laughter fill up that little shop as we sepeak about secret things and talk about the wonders of life.
I want to see your crazy babycakes. I want to witness your hardships… and if there is anyway to help, if I can put you in my nighttime prayers…. shoot me an email. (firstname.lastname@example.org). Write me a letter. Just let me know, just let me help you out baby. Because I don’t want you to be timid or shy or hating yourself. You have so much to offer this world. Yes you– you sitting there staring at your Iphone or laptop screen seeing yourself between the lines of my words. I know you are there. I know you are hurting. I know this world is big & mean & cruel at times but if it brings you any comfort– I, Courtney Walters, love you for all your craziness and if you need that reassurance. if you need a shoulder to weep on… I am always listening. After all, I wrote this post for you, my dear.