If I met my six year old self,
what would I say to her?
would I warn her of her future,
of all the bad things yet to come?
all the bad things she had yet to face?
or should I let her remain oblivious?
unaware of the darkness that loomed above,
just waiting to haunt her?
would I warn her of the people she’d meet?
though not all bad, some of them would be’ good.
no, not those people.
would I tell her of the people that would try to bring her down?
the people who would poke fun at her,
the people who would curse her name,
the people who would mock the way she spoke,
the people who would make fun of the things she liked,
and the people who would taunt the way she was?
would I tell her of the bullets of rejection and disappointment
that people would shoot at her?
would I warn her about her life at school?
about the weight of scores that would be forced upon her shoulders?
or the number of papers she would have to complete by the next day?
about the rules that would be suddenly imposed on her?
don’t do this, do that, don’t do that, do this.
would I tell her about how the numbers on her report card,
would matter more than the number of hours her eyes were closed?
would I warn her of the cage she would eventually find herself in?
where she would be trapped by her own self,
with bars made from the forces of her own mind?
would I tell her of the prison she would build,
made of her own self doubt?
would I tell her about the day that would come
when she would look in the mirror
and hate what she’d see in front of her?
would I tell her about how she would end up
pinching at the skin on her body,
wishing she were prettier,
skinnier, cooler, smarter,
just better than she was right now?
would I warn her of how she would see herself
as nothing more than worthless?
just a waste of space with no place in the world.
even though I’ve learnt so much over the years,
and seven years have passed since then,
I would give up everything I had,
to see the world through her eyes again.
to a time when I didn’t care what i looked like.
to a time when the only drug I knew was cough syrup.
to a time when the only music I listened to was disney.
to a time when the greatest pain I could feel
were the scrapes on my knees.
to a time when the only villains in my life
were the ones in my coloring book.
to a time when my shoes lit up like a disco ball.
to a time when the people didn’t use labels,
to a time when our minds and souls were pure,
to a time when life was simple,
to a time when our scars were only by accident,
to a time when goodbyes weren’t forever,
to a time when I couldn’t wait to grow up.
but now that I am grown,
lying on the floor alone,
my mind in a befuddled state,
lost among the lines of fate,
I understand now,
after all these years somehow,
that the innocence of childhood,
is just a beautiful lie.