Age 13, United Kingdom

Dear Past Me,

When I was thirteen I decided to ruin our lives. It all started simple enough, scratching my stomach—it only left irritated marks on my skin. It didn’t end there, though. Suddenly, I started to use sharper things than my nails. I started using a blade. For years I struggled with the problem of hiding the marks on my arms and soon even self-harming wasn’t enough to cease the pain. I started thinking about suicide. It led to an even darker spot in my life. I wasn’t eating. I wasn’t sleeping and all I could ever think about was dying.

I’m sorry past me. Maybe if I had found a better way to relieve my pain we would have been happier. Maybe if I had never picked up that blade we would have been happy. I’m sorry that I did that to you. I’m sorry happy little Destiny that I caused you so much pain. I only wanted you to flourish. I only wanted perfection for you, but I messed it up. I messed up your mind. I’m sorry.

Stay strong darling,
Your Future Self

What did you learn?

I’ve learned that no matter what, I need to be be strong.