Letter to Future Lys 📪
Updated: May 6
This isn't beauty
This rust of diamond dust
You cannot lead
What cannot follow...
The truth is this, that I’ve never, ever felt inclined to write a letter to my younger self.
All of the insight in the world will not give me back those years; the ones attached to ghosts that hide in my upstairs closet, peaking out from the dress I’ll never choose to wear.
In a sea of dresses I’ll never choose to wear.
I am the manifesto of my own uncertainty.
Is the soul crippled by the manifestation of contemplative thought?
Does making art manifest a tortured existence?
I’ve considered this for awhile now, in an unending battle with my pen to the paper.
I‘ve become distracted already. I close my eyes and try focus on zen.
The story gnawing at my insides slowly sinks into my metaphors.
Save it for another day, I think to myself.
If I linger too long, the world begins to smell like what is wrong with the very best of me.
I snap out of it.
This allegory makes me smile.
I simmer again at the window and irony of a reference made moot, smirking and inhaling a third time.
Oh, metaphors of flesh and floorboards.
Does this mean that my Black Rose Evolution is complete?
Am I hanging upside down?
Better yet, is my future self a rose at all?
In the future. (that was the point of this, anyway)
Try not to beat yourself up if you‘ve become the black rose.
Or if you’re no longer a flower at all.
This isn’t an out; I’m still rooting for you.
We’re currently on the tail end of a pandemic, and it doesn’t look like things will ever return to what they once were.
So I have a few reminders to remember, okay?
Stop whatever you are doing and
If you’re with someone you don’t love, leave.
If you’re unhappy with your health and appearance,
Nothing’s gonna change unless you change.
If you have found happiness, remember that a candle loses nothing by lighting another candle.
If your ideas aren’t published, publish them.
If you haven’t written today, write.
If you haven’t told yourself you are beautiful in awhile, repeat after me:
“I am a child of the universe.
True beauty radiates from within.
Also, I am at sexy little muffin of hotness and I love myself.”
That will make future self chuckle, too.
Hopefully she has outgrown bad Poe references and
still knows how to laugh.
Future self, I urge you to keep your hope alive even though the world has hurt you.
Keep believing even though you’ve been let down.
And remember, Art is the highest form of hope.
And that is what you must be for the world.
One more thing.
God loves you.
And so do I.
The-part-of- you- that-will -always -be
of diamond dust
You cannot lead