Dear Self,
Hey. How are you doing?
You tried so hard to please everyone. You tried to be everything all at once — not realizing that in doing so, you were bound to disappoint someone, fall short somewhere, and exhaust yourself in the process.
The idea that you could make everyone happy was a myth. No matter how carefully you balanced it all, someone would still feel let down. And somewhere in that fragile space where you bent yourself to accommodate everyone else… you slowly sabotaged yourself.
In the end, it was you who felt the disappointment most.
How many nights did you cry yourself to sleep because you couldn’t be who they expected you to be?
You couldn’t be the best student while letting someone else take the credit.
You couldn’t stay friends with someone who betrayed you.
You couldn’t remain an endlessly respectful student to a teacher who seemed to take pride in belittling you.
You couldn’t shrink yourself to appease someone threatened by your light.
You couldn’t be everything for everyone without abandoning yourself.
You couldn’t fill their cup without emptying yours.
There will always come a point where you have to choose. And on the days you didn’t — on the days you chose someone else over yourself — I saw your regret. I felt your sorrow. I understood the ache of it.
Now that I’m older, I’ve learned some truths the hard way.
Most people are too busy tending to their own lives to scrutinize yours. They are preoccupied with their own reflections, their own insecurities, their own survival. And if they fixate on you, sometimes it’s only to project what they dislike about themselves.
But the ones who truly care? You’ll know. Their words won’t cut. Their eyes won’t carry malice. They’ll look at you with warmth — with understanding.
Your pain became my lesson.
Your feelings became my art.
Your experiences became my poems.
Your memories became my stories.
If I’ve woven you into the pieces I’ve written — into the verses, into the quiet between lines — then you are not forgotten. You are alive in every word.
You are the breath behind my sentences.
One day, you’ll look at me through your own softened eyes, and I’ll tell you, “You were just a child trying to survive in a world that asked too much of you.”
And I hope that one day, you’ll look back at me and say, “You finally lived for us.”
At the far end of all that chaos, I found calm. There is a quiet kind of peace in embracing what has been, accepting what I’ve become, and trusting what I am still becoming.
I understand now: I was never meant to be everything for everyone. And that is more than okay.
What matters is that I live for us — for you and for me. Everyone else comes after.
I will choose you first.
I will love you first.
So to the girl who thought she had to be everything, hear me now:
You are enough.
And this time, I choose you. Always.
All my love,
Joy Clarice