This is not going to be easy, but it needs to be done. 

There’s a young girl who I feel I need to apologise to. 

For a long time, I reacted to things happening in my life, and I didn’t react in the best ways. 

I spent a long time allowing other people’s ideas, perceptions and thoughts of me, shape who I become. 

“I am whatever you say I am” 

These judgements come based on how I present myself to the world.  It happens with all of us. 

Now, I don’t feel like I make it easy for myself. 

You offer me something pink, I’ll likely throw it at you.  I won’t ever do “girls night” with Prosecco or cocktails (they taste like shit) I’m not interested in shallow small talk.  I don’t wear makeup, I rarely do much with my hair.  My uniform of jeans and a T-shirt, designed to hide what’s underneath. I won’t smile for the sake of it, and I’ll laugh openly at your stupidity.  I don’t walk around to please other people.  I’m honest, and I say it how I see it.  I can be offhand and judgmental.  I’m fluent in English, sarcasm and profanity.  I’ll shut you down if you start being a complete fucking idiot. 

I’m smart. But I learned to hide it.  I limit my own potential, by following others down paths that don’t suit me. 

I’m not dependant on relationships. Boyfriends don’t interest me (and neither do girlfriends for those wondering)  Pursuing me won’t help. I’ll just decide you’re needy. Flattery really will get you nowhere.  My life won’t be defined by a relationship status.  I hate selfies.  I hate the stupid ‘influencer’ mentality of sharing your whole damn life and looking like a twat focusing too much on your fucking eyebrows.  Send me a dick pick, I will insult you.  

I like rock music. Loud and heavy.  I’m opinionated and will argue the toss with you and call you an idiot.  I won’t wait until you realise you’re wrong.  I’m stubborn. Not asking for help will be the death of me. It nearly was before. 

In a world of people screaming “look at me” I want you to turn the other way.  I don’t want you to see me. To look at me.  I don’t care if you like me.  And I don’t really give a shit about what you think when you look at me.  I hate compliments about things out of my control. 

I’m difficult.  I’m open. 

People have judged me. People do judge me on my past, on my relationships, my lack of relationships… people I have/haven’t had sex with, or think I have… 

There’s no end to the bullshit and judgement. 

And I take it.  

I take it because I convinced myself somewhere along the way that I deserve it. 

I deserve to be hurt, or expected to make it up to people. It’s only effective if it’s detrimental to me. If it hurts me in some way. 

I’ve taken what’s come my way and I’ve rolled with it.  Downwards.

I’ve allowed pain into my life. 

And for that I’m sorry. 

I’m sorry to the little girl.

The younger me. 

The girl with unlimited potential.  The kid who could figure it out or learn it.  The girl who laughed and loved openly.  Who wanted the library, not the prince (I’m building that for you)  A young girl who could get lost in different worlds, and see so many thousands of possibilities and opportunities.  Who was excited, and wanted to give.  Who dreamt of a big life, much bigger than this.  The girl who felt free on the ice, the cold chill on her face.  Who danced in itchy dresses, and made bad puns at her dinner “pasta la vista, baby… you’ll not be back”  The girl who wanted to read and create instead of learning how to ride a bike or play out with friends. 

To you, I owe you an apology. 

I’m sorry for letting go of your dreams.  For not believing in your abilities or potential.  I’m sorry for cutting you off at the knees.  I got older. I started listening to too many people, adults, telling me about “how real life is” and I believed them when they said you’d struggle.  You couldn’t do, be, or have those things you dreamt of. 

I believed them when they said you had to ‘make do’ and I resigned us to this life. 

This life where you wake up every day feeling defeated, let down, trapped. 

It’s my fault. I take the blame.  I’m sorry, I truly am.   And more than that, I’m angry.  I’m angry at myself for leading you into this life.  I’m angry for trapping you in the box that you’ve always hated – the life you never wanted.  I’m sorry for shattering your dreams, I know you still have them. 

I know sometimes when you come out to play, we have fun. We enjoy ourselves, and it all seems like the world is yours for the taking.  But I know I’ve instilled a fear in you.  I restrained you so long, and weighed you down with so many pressures and expections. Burdens you shouldn’t have to carry.  I know when they start getting heavy the best thing for you is to retreat. To leave me to carry it in my adult heart.  I understand how heavy it is. 

Because underneath the no-BS tough exterior, I’m still you.  I’m still the girl that feels everything hard, who wants a library, not a prince to rescue her, who wants a big life in a castle built with our own hands.  We want our own empire. To live in a way that allows us to give openly and freely.  To make this a better world. 

You never left me little girl.  And now I realise my pain is not just mine. It’s yours too. 

The dreams I left to fade.  The opportunity I pushed to the side.  
My fears about who I could be overruled the excitement. 
That potential for change couldn’t be seen before, so I didn’t believe it was possible. 

Now I realise you were right all along.  I just had to trust you and follow you. 

I made you settle.  In crap jobs, poor relationships, toxic friendships.   I let people use you and abuse you.

Little Me, I love you. I love you from the bottom of my heart, I always have. 

That will never change.  And I know you’re pissed as all hell at me right now, for leading us down to this point. 

It’s time for change.  I’ll let you lead. 

Let’s see where we can go. 

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