I hope you are alive and beating.
Or even if you are dead, please let me know that you died in a heroic manner, like warding off a hundred zombies while your friends made it to safety.
Speaking of friends, I hope you have some. Retained some from school. Pick up the phone and dial her number without worrying about the time difference.
And I hope you’re still reading. If not, I’ll fling books in your face until you take it up again. And don’t give me that look. You and I both know that we weren’t fond of our facial features (to say the least) and a minor rearrangement by the books might even lead to some improvement, for all I know.
I hope you’ve left behind all the painful memories of all the failed subjects, heartbreaks, unsuccessful endeavours, but have kept the lessons learnt.
Walk slowly. Run swiftly. Keep going.
Walk slow enough to notice how things have changed in the past two decades. Walk past the sullen architecture of your elementary school and let the faded sound of children’s laughter resonate in your mind. Cherish all the quirks and the flaws about yourself; how you’ve changed in the 30 years of your existence.
Run fast from the horrors of your past. Do not dwell on your foundering. You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman whose future is all that is most important.
I hope you still believe that happiness comes from within and not from material objects. Retain your sass. That’s what makes you yourself. I hope you are building up on your principles, but haven’t forgotten the ones that I used to follow ardently.
Sit back and enjoy life. Let your kids run barefoot, climb trees and go on expeditions. Let them live their lives. As long as they have your strength and integrity, they’ll be just fine.
You still are the strongest person I’ve come across. You always will be.