Letter to my 14 year old self…
Dear Tonya,
Poor, dear Tonya. I often see you sitting on your bedroom floor watching the blood drip from your arm for the first time. Some thought it was just a phase…just the age of angst. 22 years later you will still be watching the blood drip from your arm. They told you things would get better…you didn’t believe them…and you were right…you often ask what the hell are you still doing here…but somehow you stay…there is something you are searching for that you still believe you will find…but it is a very tumultuous journey with many, many obstacles and wicked deceivers. You hold on to the memory of when you were 8 and you thought you could change the world and you still believe you will someday. You are lonely, but not alone. When you are down today you look back and say I still wouldn’t change a thing.
