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A letter I wish I could send
Aug. 29th, 2019 12:32 pmMom.
I love you.
But I'm not you.
And I'm not going to be who you wanted to be.
I'm not going to surround myself with spikes to keep the world at bay. I'm not going to forge my words into a knife to slide into people's hearts. I'm not going to manipulate the way you taught me. I'm not going to close myself off from the world, only letting a small handful in. You thought that was safety, security. You thought that you were teaching me to protect myself, and in the end, I can't hate you for that.
But I'm not you. And I'm not going to be you.
You thought the world was pain. You thought that at heart, everyone wanted to hurt and use each other. And it terrified you, I know it did. I read through your livejournal so many times, I can remember so many conversations on the subject we had. It must have killed you, knowing that the predators you were so afraid of had latched their claws into me when I was still so young.
But the world is more than the harm we can do. Humanity is more than the harm we can do. Yes, there's monsters in this world. I know. Believe me, I know. But humanity is more than this.
We are more than this.
I wish you were still here. I wish I could take your hand and make you see, make you understand. That I could show you how I was always right- how the little acts of kindness start a chain reaction, how if you just give them the chance, people will choose to be kind.
Even when it hurts. Even when it's detrimental.
Because that's what makes us human.
We've been taking care of each other since the stone age. It's how we got this far, and it's how one day we'll get to distant stars. Banding together for the common good is the foundation of civilization- and it was never about survival of the fittest. Shanidar I lived for forty years, taken care of by his tribe, blind, half deaf, with a permanent limp and unable to fend for himself- because even back then, we understood that we have to take care of each other.
That is what people are. At our core, in the end- we want to help. We want to love, to care. To create and share it, to tell the world "I am here," and hear the response of love.
We share when we have nothing left to give. We go into disaster zones to help each other, to rescue stranded animals, to risk ourselves because somebody needs our help. We're aggressively social and will packbond with anything that holds still long enough- and plenty of things that won't. We packbond with fictional characters, with machinery, with stuffed toys, with predators.
This is what we are.
And I wish, I wish so much that you were here to understand. That I could make you see that safety doesn't have to mean hitting first. That sometimes safety means reaching out a hand even when you know you might get burned- because it's worth it.
Every time.
Even when it fails.
People are worth fighting for.
We are worth fighting for.
I'm not you. And I'm not going to be you. And I'm not going to be who you tried to mold me into.
I'm going to be myself. I'm going to love, and laugh, and live, and dream. I'm going to keep reaching out, and pulling people in- and I know sometimes I'll get hurt, but it'll be worth it, every time.
Because that is who I want to be.
And I think, if you were here, that you would be proud of me.
You always wanted us to be better than you were, after all.
With love,
Your daughter.
I love you.
But I'm not you.
And I'm not going to be who you wanted to be.
I'm not going to surround myself with spikes to keep the world at bay. I'm not going to forge my words into a knife to slide into people's hearts. I'm not going to manipulate the way you taught me. I'm not going to close myself off from the world, only letting a small handful in. You thought that was safety, security. You thought that you were teaching me to protect myself, and in the end, I can't hate you for that.
But I'm not you. And I'm not going to be you.
You thought the world was pain. You thought that at heart, everyone wanted to hurt and use each other. And it terrified you, I know it did. I read through your livejournal so many times, I can remember so many conversations on the subject we had. It must have killed you, knowing that the predators you were so afraid of had latched their claws into me when I was still so young.
But the world is more than the harm we can do. Humanity is more than the harm we can do. Yes, there's monsters in this world. I know. Believe me, I know. But humanity is more than this.
We are more than this.
I wish you were still here. I wish I could take your hand and make you see, make you understand. That I could show you how I was always right- how the little acts of kindness start a chain reaction, how if you just give them the chance, people will choose to be kind.
Even when it hurts. Even when it's detrimental.
Because that's what makes us human.
We've been taking care of each other since the stone age. It's how we got this far, and it's how one day we'll get to distant stars. Banding together for the common good is the foundation of civilization- and it was never about survival of the fittest. Shanidar I lived for forty years, taken care of by his tribe, blind, half deaf, with a permanent limp and unable to fend for himself- because even back then, we understood that we have to take care of each other.
That is what people are. At our core, in the end- we want to help. We want to love, to care. To create and share it, to tell the world "I am here," and hear the response of love.
We share when we have nothing left to give. We go into disaster zones to help each other, to rescue stranded animals, to risk ourselves because somebody needs our help. We're aggressively social and will packbond with anything that holds still long enough- and plenty of things that won't. We packbond with fictional characters, with machinery, with stuffed toys, with predators.
This is what we are.
And I wish, I wish so much that you were here to understand. That I could make you see that safety doesn't have to mean hitting first. That sometimes safety means reaching out a hand even when you know you might get burned- because it's worth it.
Every time.
Even when it fails.
People are worth fighting for.
We are worth fighting for.
I'm not you. And I'm not going to be you. And I'm not going to be who you tried to mold me into.
I'm going to be myself. I'm going to love, and laugh, and live, and dream. I'm going to keep reaching out, and pulling people in- and I know sometimes I'll get hurt, but it'll be worth it, every time.
Because that is who I want to be.
And I think, if you were here, that you would be proud of me.
You always wanted us to be better than you were, after all.
With love,
Your daughter.
