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To the girl I was at eight, who wore mismatched socks and was only just learning to hate her body. You collect sticks in the hope that one will be a wizard's staff. Do not worry, magic will come to you
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To the girl I was at twelve, who stared in the mirror and a blank face with red cheeks and greasy hair stared back. Who listened to love songs that reminded you of absolutely no one, holding your own hand at night
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To the girl I was at sixteen, who had forgotten every good thing about herself until it came from someone else's mouth. Don't get lost in your heart ache. You are all those wonderful things, even if they do not say them to you anymore
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To the girl I am now, who I have spent every moment of my life with, and have yet to grow tired of, who I have carried up mountains, through heart ache and through long nights
I love you dearly, with every part of me that I can muster. I love you poorly too, with impatience and fear. I am sorry for that. Do not wait to hear it from someone else
You are electric and you will be okay
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