Dear Past Self,

This slow march towards eternity houses feelings of futility

And the burdens you insist on embracing slip away once you’ve forgiven me

I remember you, spending the days convinced you’d be rescued

Love was taught through the wrinkled pages you underlined in solitude

I know you think there’s something better out there waiting for you

And that the night sky is just a really dark blue

But soon life will reveal itself to be halfhearted and cursory

Birthdays will turn into pointless anniversaries

Your early passion gets exchanged for stubborn ambivalence

And pockets of optimism escape like effervescence

I kept your bad habits and phobias like a family heirloom

Hidden in a promising but wasted guest bedroom

Maybe the dreams you had will come to fruition soon

And maybe I’m wrong about everything I’ve said to you

But I do know that you won’t have the love you find in books

And the night sky is black no matter how many times you look