A letter from Jun 11, 2025

A Letter to Myself — June 12th, 2025 Somewhere between memory and becoming. Dear FutureMe, My dearest self, If you could close your eyes for a moment—just one—and open them not with doubt, but with wonder, you might see the quiet miracle of being who you are today. You, who once dreamt in fairy-tale colours, now walk the wild, unpaved chapters of a story that even the stars might stop to read. You, who believed castles were built with magic, not with aching hands and sleepless nights. If ten-year-old you saw you now, she might not understand. Not the things you've endured, nor the way laughter and sorrow sit side by side at your table. She wouldn't know what it meant to long for home while becoming one to yourself. She might not recognize the loneliness in your eyes—the kind that lingers even when you are surrounded by applause and titles and all the world’s nods of approval. And yet—oh, sweet girl—she would be in awe. Because you did it. Not all of it. Not the perfect ending. But the impossible beginning, and the terrifying middle. You spoke languages that once sat locked in the mouths of strangers. You earned degrees that no one ever handed you with ease. You’ve befriended people across continents, touched lives you’ll never even know you healed. Yes, some have drifted far—like stars that twinkle once, then vanish. And yes, some names you once whispered at night with trembling hope now echo with a silence that hurts more than hate ever could. But you loved. Oh, how you loved. Even if they never stayed. Even if they never returned it. You dared to love in a world that teaches us to hide behind filters and fear. That is not weakness. That is grace. There’s a version of you—somewhere—that still fears being judged, that wonders if her worth is invisible unless someone else reflects it back. There’s a part of you that sings joy from rooftops but forgets how to weep at ground level. Who thinks that silence equals strength, that sorrow makes her less lovable. But let me tell you now, with all the softness I can gather from every heartbreak you've carried— You are not broken. You are becoming. You are learning the sacred art of letting go: of people who do not stay, of dreams that no longer fit, of the lie that your value lies in being chosen. And though you are thousands of miles away from the warmth of your mother’s kitchen or your siblings' chaotic laughter or that streetlamp outside your childhood window —you are not lost. Because home is not a place. It is you. Even now, when you feel like crying but the tears have forgotten how to fall, when your chest feels like it holds a galaxy aching to collapse— you are still here. Breathing. Standing. Becoming. And when you think of that boy you still chase in your thoughts, the one who doesn’t look back, know this: love is not earned by excellence. It is not a reward for being pretty or perfect or painfully patient. Love, the kind you deserve, chooses you back. So mourn the dream, not because it died—but because you dared to dream it. Today, you are allowed to feel. To miss. To mourn. But also, don’t forget to marvel. At the woman who once thought she’d never make it this far and now sits in silence, strong enough to speak her truth— even if only to herself. Keep going, darling. You are doing more than alright. You are living a life that ten-year-old you wouldn’t believe… not because it’s perfect, but because it’s real, and it’s yours, and it's much bigger than everyone's imagination of you, even yours. With every beat of this brave heart, I am so proud of you. And now, in this quiet pause of your journey, here is the song you chose for yourself— a song for your younger, current, and future self. Click it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cyJnqxzsi_Q Let it flow through you. Let it wrap around your memory like silk: İllər sonra baxanda Təbəssümlə xatırla. Birdən olmaram yanında, Gəl bir şəkil çəkdirək... Sən ağlımı alırsan, Sən işıq saçırsan, Gecəmə aymısan?! And to you, dear me, let this always be your compass: Enjoy looking at yourself with love, just the way you are. Never compromise on the things you know you truly deserve. Never be afraid of following your heart— but trust your mind too. It knows the way. You are doing more than alright. You are quietly rewriting history. With all the love I can hold— Yours, always. —You, me... (with a thousand skies behind her eyes)