Dear strangers who once were more,
I hope you’re happy- and not the fake happy or the bullshit happy, but the happy you feel in your toes, the happy that shoots through your veins and feels like the warmth of the sun on your skin.
I hope you’re loved. I hope that someone looks at you with eyes that glow from knowing how lucky they are you’re around. You are lovely- someone is going to realize that and never let you go.
I hope they support you. I hope they recognize your weaknesses and vulnerabilities aren’t flaws, but character development and potential and possibilities and hope in the making.
I hope they see hope in all your dark places and can shine a light to help you find your way when you’re stuck.
I hope they appreciate and don’t forget you, your specialness.
I hope you’re happy and that you can share that with someone.
I hope you’re free.
I hope that even though we couldn’t be anything but disasters and messes and six different kinds of poison to each other, that we can forgive each other for not being enough.
I’m a storm, and by nature I’m unexpected and unplanned and terrible and terrifying.
I’m also working on being better- but this isn’t about me. This is about my hope for you.
I hope you’re all the things you wanted to be, the kind of person you said you were working towards. I hope you’re there. Even if you’re not, the person I knew was amazing too.
I hope you smile, and laugh a lot.
I hope you love even more.
I hope you’re dancing (at least for yourself).
I hope you’re getting on.
I hope… I hope everything for you.
I’m not there, and you’re not here, and we can’t be- that’s just not how it works out.
We make monsters of each other.
So now, apart, we can make lullabies.
And that’s okay.
I’ll always be hoping you, hoping you everything.
I love you, you were an important stop on this road, or hike, or path or journey or whatever life is- you were important. It’s okay that it’s over.
It happened. And that, that’s worth a thousand more endings.
Be well, dear stranger.