Dear 13-year-old MM,
Today marks the eighth year of your first victory… in meeting your favorites, that is. I look back and realize how similar and different we were from each other. Unlike me, you didn’t care about what other people would think. At. All. Maturity can do this to you. I admire you for that. I wish I could still do the same now.
You were crazy, unbelievable at times. But it led you to places you’ve never been. You had that urge to be out there in the world, and that’s exactly what happened. If not for you, I wouldn’t have pursued my dreams. Some of them have materialized already, by the way. There are so many other things I want to accomplish, but right now, I don’t have the courage to take a leap of faith. Besides, life has gotten complicated. I miss the simple life. Less worries, more fun. My courage/fate meter needs a serious refill.
I sometimes tap that part of you within me. We both know how easily we succumb to these two magical words: “What if.” We end up looking for signs; if it’s a go or no. Eventually, we give in to the excitement, to the unknown. Sometimes we fail, but there are times we make it. And we have what we want—pure bliss and a sense of achievement. Just typing those words give me chills down my spine. I want to feel that way again.
You were stubborn, which explains what I am now. We definitely share the virtue of impatience, because we believe we aren’t born to wait. Yet both of us understand that the biggest dreams require time, perseverance and yes, patience. We both have learned the art of impatiently waiting. Keeping the faith. Believing.
I miss all these about you, and most of all, that certain spark and spunk you possess. I want to be reminded whenever I feel small, weak, unimportant and unworthy that there used to be a fire within me that was clearly unstoppable. And you had it. I wanna keep it.