if i could offer advice to my twenty-one year-old self, i'd hesitate. not because i'm void of wisdom– but because your story needs to be written by your hand, not edited by mine. unless your life's on the line, i'll rarely interfere. suffering, after all, is the thread that sews wisdom in the seams of you're becoming. how else will you learn to feel the sharp edges– of disappointment, heartbreak, of grief, self-betrayal or disillusionment, of resentment dressed up as righteousness, or longing dressed up as love? if i did, interfere that is, i'd block the pathway to your gut– a lifelong partner willing to stand with you in the gray. so no, i won’t stop you from walking straight into those electric fences. the ones that jolt you off-path. the ones that turn yellow flags into bright, burning red. even if you walk into them twice. you will need to be both the Shepherd, and the sheep. but i will encourage three things to build from early: 1. breathe–learn to find yourself there. 2. write–so you can find the words. 3. share–because you're not walking alone. those practices? they’ll hand you silence when you need it. release when pressure builds. love inside loss. clarity in the fog. belief, when confidence has slipped out the back door. confidence, by the way, will stop being your drug. Belief, will become your rhythm. and chaos? it won’t be a crisis— just background noise you’ve learned to observe. there is, however, one thing i won’t leave to fences: your Body. respect it. don’t run short-term games on a long-term system. it’s not about comfort— challenge it, always. but listen when it speaks. because when the body rebels, it does not go quietly. and it rarely forgives carelessness. and if somewhere along the way, you lose yourself— remember this: take the right things seriously. and be a cheeky c*nt the rest of the time. ;-)
this piece began as a scaffolded conversation with myself on a run. a thought surfaced:
what would my 35-year-old self say to my 21-year-old self?
we often treat desire, success, whatever you want to call it like a shortcut—believing we can leap ahead by avoiding the mistakes of those who came before us.
honestly, i don’t know.
i’ve come to believe that deeper growth comes not from skipping the fall, but from speaking with those who’ve risen from it—after you’ve been to the depths yourself.