'Ateityje Adresu' by Ravyn LaRue

I'm scared that when I'm older
I will see this all as nothing
For I will have seen worse by then
I know that's nearly inevitable
At least if I live long
Which I fully intend on doing
So this might seem like nothing
And although I've done it before
I'm doing it again

Hello future self, I am writing to you now
Can you recall how you felt when you applied to come here?
Can you recall how you thought everyday you'd be at your most triumphant?
Remember how you saved the message on the phone when mama said I got an acceptance letter?
Remember how, for a while, the box it was sent in was your most cherished belonging?
There were tears in your eyes and excitement in your heart when you told your brother.
You thought it'd be like your home.

Remember how SPCPA was home?
I promise you now, you long for it more than anything.
You met your un-biological sister there.
You met nearly all those you call your beloveds.
You were comfortable singing.
You could be whatever you wanted to be, as long as you were also kind.
Which you were there, because nearly everyone was kind there.
You could be emotionally naked, and no one scoffed at you or told you to cover yourself and keep from being disgraceful.

Here is not home, self.
And now you're only reiterating the same points that you doubt anyone else could fully grasp.
But you know in your heart it is worse than Saint Marks, which is already infamous in your mind as a traitor
And you know Columbia is worse
Much worse
Since it cannot hide behind pious unkind religion
And it claims to be kind
Saint Marks claimed to be kind, but their lies never fooled you
Remember College Orientation?
You were eating right out of their hands.
Remember how you believed every word?

I'll tell you what you are now.
You are in a McDonald's typing
It's all you can afford to eat
And all you can bring yourself to do
You feel the same bitterness that Home took out of you
Because SPCPA was home
You think now of all the good things
All the good teachers you wish you could always be pupil to
You don't know what to do or think or feel
The only things tangible to you are sadness and longing for the past
And the sadness is deep
And the past is sweet
And you're thinking whether or not this sadness will seem warranted
And you know that no one here sees things as miserable, but you
And they tell you you're just being sensitive
But your heart disagrees
And your brain sides with your heart even though they so often disagree

You ask yourself to remember when you were happy
And you try to conjure that emotion again
But here, where you are in life, it seems so false when you muster a smile
And you've far surpassed the point of pretending
You long for emotional nakedness
And the past where you could be open and cathartic
And the people who surrounded you didn't respond with jeers
Rather they enveloped you in hugs
And told you your tears brought on theirs

Here you have to struggle to sing
And when you do, it hurts profusely
But you sing anyways

You sing the body electric-
Since you get it now
Because here, that's the thing you long for most.

This isn't kiddie angst, I promise you that
Because you never felt this much sorrow since Saint Marks
Herfandahl, Cameron and the rest could be difficult to deal with
But at the end of the day-
Home was still Home-
There was nothing they could do to stifle it
Because it's spirit was resilient
As is yours
Which is why
In a few years from now
You'll think
"How silly I was to write with such passion and vitriol, I was just a silly teen-"
But I promise you
I promise me
Your reaction should be equal to the hatred towards Saint Marks-
Though amped up a hundredfold
Because it deserves as much hatred as you can muster
Even then, it isn't enough

I hope by the time you read this:
1. You're singing again
2. You're surrounded by beloveds
3. You're emotionally naked as often as possible
4. You're kind
5. You believe the words you wrote to yourself at 10:24 PM on a Friday at a McDonald's on W. Jackson when you were supposed to do math homework since your emotions hurt too much to allow yourself to do anything but write.
I hope you still write lots.
I hope it's better than this, but hopefully just as emotional.
That's important, you know.
I hope you're doing well.
I really hope you're doing well.