A Letter To Myself

Dear confused self,


I regret to inform you that you didn't quite...
Scratch that. Regrets are senseless. Everything happened just the way it should have. Why?
You are here today, being who you are, doing what you do, because of every piece of the past. Every single piece.
That’s right. Cheers to every scrape from falling off of your bike, every wrong answer on a test, every jerk that made their way into your heart somehow, every avoidable argument that comes with the denial of being wrong, every little white lie-every imperfection, every smudge on the canvas of your life has made up the art that is who you are today.
And every piece of art has its story. Isn't that what's most intriguing about it? No two works are the same, for they can't be. Van Gogh is no Picasso. Picasso went through blue phases, but never so blue that sending a part of ear was considered a gift of devotion.
You're probably wondering what I'm getting at, and why it's taking so long. But don't we ask that of ourselves more times than we know?
Why is it taking so long for me to be happy? Why is it taking so long for me to understand the theory of relativity? Why is it taking so long to allow the world to read my thoughts? Why is it taking so long for me to change the world, just like I've always wanted to?
Your canvas is not complete. The story of you has not reached the climax just yet. Aspire to become the writer you've always dreamed of, but do it with love in your heart, hope on your sleeve, and leave your eyes wide open.          
I'm afraid you've missed some extravagant things on your quest through life.
Love yourself a little more. Love opens the heart to a thousand different highways. Love for yourself can take you every place you'd want to go. Perhaps you limited yourself to a single freeway. Try turning around, love yourself a little more, and the end result will be in your favor. One who compares themselves to others is one that isn't reading their own street signs. Don't speed up to catch up to the one in front of you, for they have their own destination.
You'll get to yours exactly on time, so never be afraid to take any detours. Never be afraid to allow some paint to drip on your canvas.
Do you get it, yet? Am I loud and clear, confused self? Love yourself, love your work. Love your work, and so will others.
Sing and the world sings with you. I look forward to hearing from you again. But next time don't use your inside voice. Scream at the top of your lungs. This isn't a library, this is life.



Sincerely, 
Your future self