Letter #8 "Apology"

I'm sorry.

When I had no mother, you were there to fill the void. To step in with all the love in the world and raise me as one of your own. Perhaps I was.
I was not a good person. Not to you. Not to many people. You never saw it. You only saw the good. The raw talent, the bright heart that beats strong and the goodness that was there sometimes.
Sometimes.
You only saw the good. And I abused that for the longest time. I didn't know of anything different. I remember making you cry. I only saw you cry twice in my life. The first time was when I got hurt. I burnt my hand and my little body couldn't stand the pain, so I cried and cried and you, not knowing what to do, you sat next to me and cried with me. The second time, I made you cry. I was only twelve but I said things I'd never even think of saying today. You cried because I was mad at you, and I told you to go away.
I'm sorry.
I cry today when I think of it.
You never got tired of reading the same stories. Even long after I could read, you would still read them to me. When I think of them, I still hear them in your voice. I never told you that.
I never told you how much you mean to me.
Not even as I write this.
You got lost in the times. When friends, technology and problems started to occupy my time, I left no space for you. You felt it. I pushed you away, and no matter how much you did your best to try to stay in my life, I simply pushed you away.
I'm sorry.
I never meant to lose you.
And I didn't. No matter how much I pushed you away, you never gave up on me. You never got mad at me. No matter how much I hurt you.
I don't have many memories that I remember fondly. Almost all of them include you. When everything seemed so dark and when I saw no exit, you were there. Like the last match in the box, you burned bright and you never extinguished. You never knew what was going on in my head. I never wanted you to know. I thought you wouldn't understand. You would have. I still won't tell you. In your world, problems were small. It was a missed hairdresser appointment or TV show episode. A burnt lunch or shoes that gave you blisters. You went through so much before I knew you. You deserve to have only small problems now. It seems like the only big problem you have now
Is me.
I'm sorry. When I had no one, you were my best friend. When I would come home crying you asked why. I never told you. You still held me. I wish I treated you better. It is my only regret in life.
I miss you. every day.
And the worst part is
You're still just a phone call away.

I'm sorry I never call.
I love you.

Letter #7 "Dear Younger Me"

Dear younger me,

If ever in the future they invent a time machine, I'll make damn sure you get this. Because you need to hear this.

You won't ever change, yet you will end up a completely different person than who you were. You'll change in only one way, and it's the most important thing that will ever happen to you.
You'll stop being scared. Of who you are, of who you want to be, of how you want to look, of who you want to love. And it feels beautiful. And I wish you could do it sooner.

You'll always be loud. You'll always draw attention to yourself. You'll learn in time that is not a bad thing. No point in hiding it. In a few years, you'll be begging your older self to never stop being loud.
They will try to shut you up. They'll tell you nobody likes a loud girl. Nobody likes a girl who always has to say her opinion. Fuck those people.
I know you look at the little shy girls who get all the boys. You wish you could be more like them. you don't understand why being loud and noticed is a bad thing.
You never will.
You'll try to disappear. You'll wish you're invisible. That was never who you were.
Be loud. Be strong. Say what you mean without fear or guilt.

It's okay to love yourself. Even if you feel like nobody else does. Nobody else matters. It was always only you.

You got boobs before anyone else in class. You hated them. You tried to hide it. You never realized that all the looks you got weren't judgment and hate. They were jealousy. It'll continue for a few years, then you'll all grow up.

It's okay to like girls.

You think you don't have a choice in who you "date", so you'll be with anyone who approaches you. Have more self-respect. You'll find people who love you and who you will love back. You won't be with them forever, and that sucks. But you'll have beautiful times. Just wait for a bit, they're on their way.

I won't spoil it for you, but amazing things are coming, and a few shitstorms as well.
When you're sad, remember you're not alone.
When you miss someone (and you'll do that a lot), remember you'll see them again. Even if they're really far away right now.
Take a lot of pictures and look at them often. Spend at least as much time making wonderful memories as you do thinking about them.

Don't stop dancing, you'll miss it too much.

I'm proud of you for not having to tell you that your body is your own and that you have the right to say "no". You always knew that.

You'll often wish you were somewhere else with people who understand you a million times better than anyone you grew up with. You still wish that. More and more so every time you see them, and have to say goodbye.

You were strong-headed from the moment you were born. It's okay to ask for help. You can't do everything alone, and you don't want to be alone. Just admit it to yourself and spend time with people who appreciate you.

For anyone who tells you to never change, teach them change is good. Cut the strings tying you to people who are toxic and who don't make you be a better you.

You'll make it. Through it all. You'll make it, I promise. Just never stop being you. That's the important part. You're awesome and don't let anyone tell you you're dreaming too big or being too ambitious. You'll wow them all.

Love,
Your slightly older self

P.S. Skirts fit you better than pants, and you're allowed to wear them.
P.P.S. Spend more time with your brothers. They'll move out soon.

Letter #6 "Dear Old Friends"

Dear old friends,

I'm sorry if you feel neglected, but you are not anymore in my focus. I'm sorry if this will seem cold, but if I needed you, I would have called you. I didn't, so draw the conclusion yourselves.

But please, old friends, do not think that you were not once important. I have a very refined taste for people, you were once exactly what I needed. From you I have learned and grew, and for that I will be forever thankful. You were maybe on my speed dial, and maybe just someone I talked to if I  ran into in the street. Nevertheless, you were unique. If I ever shared but a single part of my life with you, you have made your mark, and I do remember you.

Old friends, you may not remember me at all. I may have been someone you hung out with when you were drunk on the weekends, or someone you would see once a month on a gig, but if we just shared a smile, or a look, or if I was holding your hair while you were vomiting drunk, then I remember you.
If you were someone who I considered my best friends, and then after a long time all of a sudden we lost contact, and you think I have forgotten you completely, I haven't. I remember you.
If you were my best friend for the biggest part of my life, but after a single summer, we became complete strangers, I still remember you. And I know that you know things about me nobody will ever know. And also that you will never be able to understand the person I am now.

My life is a book and you were all crucial characters for the storyline, and don't know if you're coming back in the sequels.

Old friends, you are gone, but not forgotten. And all I can say...

Is thank you.

With love,

Cicmila

The Broken Ones

We are the broken ones.

Our wings were clipped
And our sky was clouded
But somehow we had the strength to spread our arms and swing hard enough to shoot right through those clouds.

We are so cold.
Our arms can never wrap all around our broken bodies and shattered minds.

Our thoughts are runaway fireflies
And if you somehow catch a few in a jar, close it tight.

When we raise our hand to speak our mind, we are told to be silent.
But it doesn't even matter. You could never hear us from beneath the pile of rocks we're buried under.

We spend our days wondering if being tortured is really what we were born for.

Fighting back hurts so much it's just not worth it anymore.
We are mere shadows.
The only thing we're good as is a bad example.
As a warning for where you end up if you dare be different.

Our backs were broken and pieces shattered in the wind to make sure we never stand tall again.

We don't know our own names, nobody has said them in such a long time.
Nobody had a reason to.

We are simply

The broken ones.

Cicmila

Too Old

She felt old. Like the world was pushing down on her for too long and she did not have springs in her feet to jump back up. Like yesterday's sunset was the last one she will ever see. Like for the first time, life is too long.
Like she had already passed the finish line, but she kept running.
Like being alone wasn't punishment enough, it had to last forever, and then when she found someone, she lost them in a blink.
Her eyes could not see the far away bright expectations others had, nor could they see the little miracles right before them. They could only see that cold, empty space in the middle.
Sometimes here views were brightened by the glasses of a laugh following a family dinner burnt chicken, or a grandchild's picture just for her, but those were merely moments.
She would slowly walk the peaceful park she use to storm through, making sure she's not home late from the dance.
Her lungs were too weak to accept all the air she wanted them to have, and the smell of sweet flowers no longer reached her memories.
She was lost in the town she grew up in, feeling very well every one of her memories being pushed out and replaced by someone else's, younger and stronger.

She did not know about the bright memories others had of her, never to be forgotten.
So she felt too old.

Cicmila

Letter #5 "Dear Rain"

Dear rain,

There are so many things I could say. We've been friends since the earliest days, and my god, have I grown fond of you! You seem so perfect, the way you set the mood. Sometimes I think you are all a day is missing. You see the world in such a special way, and I am forever grateful to you for trying to show me that. You, of course, washed away all my fears, I feel safer with you around at night. You go perfect with tea and piano. With warm hugs, or blankets. Or both.
On my first ever concert, you made the piano keys so slippery I made countless mistakes. I don't resent it, you made it special.
When I didn't know what to do you would always unite me with someone under an umbrella. I would escape that, of course: it's so unfair that you have traveled so far, just to be denied touching my skin.
Dearest rain, I love you. You make every moment that more special, and you make decisions that much easier to live with.
But rain, you made mistakes. I will never forget what you did may, 2014. You took so many lives, how could you?! I can't forgive you for that. I won't.
Oh, rain, you seem to follow me everywhere I go, so I've made peace with you and let you in once again. Thank you, rain, for everything. You mean so much to me, you will never know. If I ever have a daughter, that's what I will name her, Rain.
Come on, rain, let's hold hands and walk down the path to a new year once again. I will be waiting for you on the other side of winter.
See you soon, dear friend.

Yours always,

When You're Alone

There are some special moments.
When you're walking down a street in the middle of the night, and you feel like you are the only person in the world.
When you put your headphones in sitting by the river and you just breathe slowly and gather your thoughts just to let them go wild in the next moment.
When you look at the mirror for so long you don't recognize yourself and you don't feel as alone anymore.
When you find yourself feeling free enough to put a tiny hop in every one of your steps. When you sing to yourself and nobody else, because that's the only time when your voice sounds so beautiful.
It's the moments when you feel alone in the best way possible. When you're not paranoid that someone can see you or hear you or read your mind. When you know you won't be judged by anyone but yourself. At those moments, what do you think about?
Do you think about the time in eight grade when you kissed your best friends girlfriend, but you both decided to never tell? Do you think about the silly plays you use to put on for your parents friends when you were five? Do you think about the diary you had when you were eleven, that you promised to write every single day, but forgot about it the next day, because when you're eleven there are so many more important things to think about. Like what you're gonna get at the candy store. Do you think about the bills that you have to pay but you know you can't afford. Or do you remember all the times when your guardian had to pay the bills, but all you cared about was the new toy and now you're devoured by guilt? Or do you think about the cute person who you shared eye contact with in the bus this morning, and in those few short looks you imagined a whole future with them, a whole lifetime worth of memories that are yet to happen. And then they get out on the next stop, without giving you anything more than a smile. Bummer. Do you think about the chocolate chip cookie you had in the morning, and diet you promised to go on the night before? Do you think about how awesome it would be if you were on a huge stage singing the tune that's been stuck in your head the whole day? It's ok, we all wanted to be superstars at one point. Do you think about life and death and the greater questions? Or do you think about the light you left on when you left home this morning? Do you think about the time when that nerdy somebody you secretly adored was so obviously hitting on you but you were too young and dumb to realize? Do you think about the time when you went and cut all your hair off, just because you could? Do you think that your life is a movie and that moment is an epic scene with awesome background music?
Because it is. It's a scene that you should remember. Whatever you are thinking about, when you're so alone that you can be your true self, it's the core of the beautiful structure of thousand materials called you.
So love those moments and be thankful for each and every thought, because you're the director and the star of that movie, and you won't get a sequel. So make sure you do it the way you want the first time around.

Cicmila