Sometimes, late at night when I should be asleep, I remember.
I remember how I used to be…when things were bad…when I was a bad little girl…
And I wonder…if I could talk to her…what would I say?
I should say…the things I was taught to say to her…
I’m so sorry you’re hurting.
It’s not your fault.
You are not bad.
This is going to be over soon.
You will get better.
It will get better…
But I feel…like saying…
Kill yourself…now.
Because it won’t get better.
Because in twenty years from now you will sit with this memory, because everything in your life reminds you about some part of it, and you will think about how it can never go away and you will want to die.
So die now.
Avoid one thousand future deaths…
One thousand future hurts…
One thousand future lies…
And never remember this.
Colloquially Speaking 
After a night full of the past … thank you for knowing and saying.
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Wow. Left me in tears and shaken. Thank you… Thank you…. for saying the words i was scared to say, for uttering that which i felt unutterable. Thank you.
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I always agree with everything you write…until, I guess, today. Because while still will think back and get that flush of 9shame/hurt/pain/humiliation), i also know that I am who I am today because of who i was then. and i beat them. i beat them all.
And do you think your child would give 20 years ago you the same advice? Or your significant other?
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‘what I FEEL like saying is….’
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The complexity — about human becoming? — is very realistic and beautiful and mysterious and compelling. I’m not sure enough psychologists read poetry. A few rereadings helped me to help a friend. Thank you again.
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