Dear younger self, thank you for failing

It seems like every time I try to reach you, I get paralysed by fear. A feeling of anxiety mixed with shame and nervousness is triggered in desperation to block our encounter.

You are supposed to be a part of me. Yet, you’ve been hiding away, running past infinite walls designed and known only by you. Living in a loop, tirelessly carving hopes into an ethereal world, I’ve been unreachable, withdrawing into lives given to try out by so many others.

I feel that I profoundly let you down. Failure – this was your unforgivable sin. Even though you tried so hard to create perfection out of insecurities and to fill an inexorable void with nothing but pure fears, I still wasn’t impressed. You weren’t trying enough.

I took your successes for granted or, even worse, considered them pure luck or just others’ mercy shed on you. I turned you into a rubber band pulled into different directions, and once it got too far, you inevitably broke into pieces. Only then did I catch a glimpse of your inborn fragility. Your gentleness. A different kind of strength which doesn’t rely on what comes and goes but on being in harmony, being at your own pace as these seem the absolute freedom to you.

I can’t help but wonder what made me turn against you. Instead of being your guiding light, I turned into an overwhelming shadow, and like an unnurtured flower, you lost your buds and never fully blossomed.

I can still recall how you dreamt about discovering not the world but your meaning as part of your existence. I’m still shuttered to think you were barely a kid with such noble aims back then. Whereas I should’ve been thoughtful and respectful of your desires, I ended up demeaning you. I can’t recall the precise moment of our separation, but when going back to pick up the broken pieces, you were there: forgotten, frightened, not even waiting, exiled for being a failure. 

Now I see it. All this time wasn’t about fitting in, about finding your place in the world. The longing feeling had always carried me back to you, my younger self. Your failure was eye-opening. Thank you for failing. Only now can I embrace the freedom you unknowingly fought for.

I call you my younger self, but you could be anything. Some call it a lost part of the soul. I only know there is no growing without you. There are no roots to nurture in your absence, no tranquillity, and, ultimately, no meaning.

Promises won’t make your walls crumble, and words won’t reach you. If there were a wormhole, I would only send my gratitude. You are my winning failure.