Letter to myself: 4th August

Dear Eliza

I’ve no clue what to tell you, as I’ve no clue what you need to hear. I don’t know what’s going on for you now. I wish I could help. I know one thing. And that is that it’ll pass. And that is that it’ll get easier. And that is that you’re worth it. You can make it. I promise you. You can. I know that you don’t know what you want. I know that you’re confused. I know that it’s okay. I know that it will be okay. I know that one day you’ll look back and wonder why you ever wanted to be elsewhere. One day you’ll look back and be so glad that you stayed here, that you waited for it to pass, that you waited for it to get easier. One day you’ll be so glad to be here. You’ll be happy that you didn’t end it. I promise you that day will come. You will be there on that day. I know that you can, and will. It’s up to you. Keep on making the right choices. Or, even if not all your choices are right, like those when you’re choosing to use, don’t make the wrong ones that are irrevocable, like one that would include taking all the painkillers you have at hand. Just hold on. I believe in you. I’m with you. You can do this, are doing this, and will get there.


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