interpreting the complexities of self

me age seventeen:

I don't even think god is real 

I want to smoke weed all of the time

me age twenty-two:

love is the closest to god I will ever be

weed makes me scared 

letter to myself #2

You are doing so many things right. I know you worry quite often about 'being good'. What does that mean to you? What does 'being good' look like? When are you bad? Could you ever be bad if you're human? If you're just an animal? You wonder if you're very much this or much too little of that. You want to be more of something while being less of that other thing. You're funny when you bargain with your brain like this. Have you considered the fact that you have evolved from monkeys lately? Think about it some and see if the standards you reason with continue holding up. Hope that helps. You handle change well. Whether you realize it or not. Your ability to hop from situation to location back to situation is honorable but you don't notice that. You're busy wondering you'll grow out your bangs. We always have a choice over what we lean into. You lean into questionable curiosities sometimes. It's because you're strange and brilliant. It's because you're something 'good'. Life is very very very messy; a very alive thing. You step on the scale. You wonder if you reach out enough to the people you love. You wonder when you'll clean up your Spanish speaking. You wonder if you'll live through a war. You wonder if he will love you for his entire life. You wonder what is it all for. If you knew why we were here, would it change anything?

Would you still pray?