An Open Letter To A Lonely Little Girl

This is for a little girl who felt chronically out of place and always uncomfortable.

Uncomfortable being seen, being looked at, just being. As long as you’ve known, no place felt like home. You know happiness, sure. In this fleeting moments when people around you seem pleased, you feel at ease. You feel like you could manage, could live on. But you have never known a place that felt safe enough to rest. To be seen and known has never been a great place to be.

Love has always been a fleeting concept, it happens in fantasy books and fairy tales that you read, equally as fictions as the dwarves and druids they’re based on. You never knew you could exist in the same universe as love. Until you met her, a perfectly ordinary but a perfectly magical girl. You met her in the most oridanry way possible, in your PG. You were sad, as you often were (and are still). You didn’t know what life was, you wanted something grand and sweeping to give you meaning to live for.

And she did that, by doing absolutely nothing but exist, with you beside her. You gained something as a nineteen year old that you never knew you lost. And you’ve been living with her ever since, and she with you. You feel like two halves of a whole.

This is for a little girl who felt she wasn’t made for love, but found it nonetheless. And that was enough for her to start believing in life, in herself and in other people.

Yours Queerly,

RS