Dear younger me, To write is to bleed. There will be nights when your typewriter keys are soaked with blood, dark, sticky, and dripping. Blood metallic and warm on your fingertips. There will be days when your paper is splattered with drops of blood as you rapturously grasp at everything, at nothing. There will be... Continue Reading →
Dear younger me, Passion is infinitely important, my child. And you are so passionate. I can still see you. There is not an animal you don't think is cute, an essay you don't love to write, or a flower you can't find joy in. For all the battles you've fought, you have an extravagant passion... Continue Reading →
Dear younger me, Oh beautiful, I'm so sorry. I could've saved you from so much. So much pain, so much regret, so many painted smiles. You'll write in blood for quite a while. There will be times when you think the bleeding won't ever stop. Know it does; God heals all wounds. Even these. It's... Continue Reading →
Dear younger me, I made some mistakes with this one. Love is pain, darling. It's beautiful, but it hurts. I'm talking about earthly love, of course. The imperfect kind. For all your wisdom, you were naïve the first time. It's not your fault. For all the lessons learned, you were too idealistic the second time.... Continue Reading →
Dear younger me, For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear, I will help you. Isaiah 41:13 You'll use this verse quite often. I could tell you how important faith is; I could advise you to keep walking with God; I could... Continue Reading →
Dear younger me, Oh my sweet summer child. So many things to tell you. So much you don't know. Yes, you are mature for your age, but you have so much more maturing to do. Your wisdom will be hardwon. Terribly hardwon. There will be pain. I can see it, written all over your heart,... Continue Reading →
A Study in Crimson Prose 