I’d tell my younger self I’m sorry I let your mind wander until it found dangerous things. I let every anxiety cripple a part of you and I’m not sure how you moved with such ease. You grew up when life lit your world like a forest fire. I think your lungs were damaged from the smoke. You still coughed up a smile and shrug it off and I think you’re so fucking cool. I wish you could have let yourself have more versions of fun. Be reckless. Tucked it all away for safekeeping and used it as strength when you needed it. Reached to the corners of your mind to break through every barrier. Let life come from you because God knows it swung at you. I love you for the pride and the loyalty and the perseverance and the unruly mess you held with grace. I’m just sorry you held it with shaking hands. That’s just the way you move on. Please let yourself move on. Stretch your soul to the farthest points of you have to, just fucking move on. I’m sorry. -AMT