It would sound so crazy in an earlier time.

If I told the younger version of me those stories, he’d probably think I’m lying.

He probably sees himself having his best life.

He’d probably not believe that he’d become very insecure, that he’d become addicted to porn, that he’d drink alcohol, that he’d be violated sexually, that he’d be a rude person in his mind, that he’d be seeing himself as a monster, that he’d have days he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, that he’d have family he’d look at negatively, that he can’t even be in the kitchen with other people, that he’d try to cover his body so he wouldn’t be teased, that he’d feel like he has to lie, that he’d feel jealous easily especially when it came to men he’d be attracted to, that he would be sad about not being able to drive, that he’d feel like his life wouldn’t go anywhere, that he’d have no friends in person to talk to about his issues, & that he’d ruin almost all of his friendships.

But yesterday’s version of me wouldn’t even want to hear the positive things I could say. That’s how bad I felt at the time. But here’s the thing, I have good music I’ve made all by myself, I’m eclectic in everything I do, I found my most healthy coping mechanism, I found my favourite book & I’ve related with it so much, & I have so much ambition.

The last thing is that the version of me from just a few months ago wouldn’t even believe that I’d type out my feelings for so long.