To my most wonderful almost

They say that there's no such thing as perfect timing, because we are the one to make it. And so I tell you, if my heart is 100% sure, I would be the one to find you and make the time right. You deserve the best, and I'm not selfish enough to tell you I'm the best for you when I'm not.

For now, I'd stay on earth, being myself and exploring the unknown. Saying goodbye now isn't permanent. It's just my way of giving you a world without me. My way of giving myself time to heal the wounds I created so that I can grow more without pain and regret gushing from my eyes. I want you to know that even if I said "no" a thousand times, my heart said "yes" a million times and that your love was not unrequited. It was reciprocated without me telling you. "Thank you for our little infinity, my Augustus Waters." You'll always be my most wonderful "almost." Our memories will be one of the beautiful reasons for smiling, okay? Okay.

From The One Who Said No When She Meant Yes

Letter to The One That Broke Your Heart the Hardest

Maybe love is an equation plotted on a graph. But maybe not the equation I expected. For the majority of my preteen and teen years, I boiled the process of falling in love down to a simple equation. An equation I hadn’t ever tested, but had seen play out hundreds of times.

That’s what love was. A process. A slow unfolding that followed a predetermined course. Love, I believed, was akin to riding a cable car. You couldn’t jump ship. You had to ride out the wave and accept the fact that it might hurt. It might really, really hurt. But in the end, it would work out. For me, love meant following someone blindly down that path until completion. Girl meets Boy. Girl falls for Boy. Girl loses Boy. Girl gets Boy back. Math is comfortable in a way that writing and the humanities will never be. There’s no risk involved. At least nothing that can’t be calculated. But if I could arc my own life story, plotting on a graph my three-act structure, I would be miserable. To know ahead of time all the turning points, the highs and lows, would not excite me. I am my own heartbreaker. And I continued to whittle down the person I was to trade it into the person I thought I needed to be until I was miserable. Until I’d redefined my notion of love to fit that less-than-ideal mold. But what I know now is that life doesn’t have to follow a strict plan. I don’t have to fit a predetermined mold. And my heart doesn’t have to break in the process. I read a passage in John Green’s Will Grayson, Will Grayson that inspired me to write this: It’s called an ex because there’s this whole part of your life before you’re dating and this whole part after. Like the shape of the letter “x”. And that moment, that stretch of time you’re together, is so infinitely small in the grand scheme of life. It’s coming together and falling apart that makes it all one cohesive journey.

Love yourself.

Love, Me

Letter To Someone You Will Miss the Most

It’s occurred to me that in a little over a month, I’ll be done highschool. Done. I’ll pack up my clothes, my textbooks. My whole life will be wrapped up into a couple of boxes and packed away. It’s an odd feeling, knowing it’s far away but not too far. When you’re a freshman in high school, you don’t dwell on graduation. It’s the same with highschool. I just kind of assumed I’d go from living at home for 16 years to living in Metro just as long. Last year, I probably would have jumped at the opportunity to graduate early. But after that, I realized it’s possible to let yourself enjoy highschool. And I have definitely not doubted that in the last three years. So thank you. For being my bestfriend and for giving me a million little moments to return to.

Love, Bea

Letter To Someone You’ve Drifted Away From

I don’t know if drifted is the right word. It’s more like if you leave something really good out on the counter, like a slice of pie, but you forget to cover it, and when you come back a few days later the pie’s still there but it’s not quite as good. What’s ironic is that in our own haste to be exactly the same sort of driven and busy person, we often run out of time for each other.

I don’t want to point fingers and place blame, because its not one of our faults more than another. But persistence is a word I seemed to have let slip away too easily. A word that found solace in my heart for so long, but for some reason ran off at the first opportunity.

We used to joke that together, we had enough diversity in talents and interests to put together a film.Instead of worrying about missteps and who said what to who or who should have, we should have been creating something. Something bigger than us.

It’s a shame we don’t talk as much, because we could sit in a room and bounce ideas off each other. We could talk about just about anything and make the other person feel less lost or worried or anxious. You and me, we understand each other. And sometimes, we lose sight of that. We trudge over boundaries and cross into new territory and try to make the leap to the New World without holding onto any small fragment of the Old World.

And that’s all I’m asking. To be that small fragment, a shard of glass or a charm that you can stick deep down in your pocket, pulling it out whenever you start losing yourself because you think the rest of the world will always hold something better. The past grounds us, but it doesn’t have to hold us back. We’re better for it.

There are times for pressing forward and times for turning back. There are times for comfort in the warmth of a familiar face and times for chills and excitement as we race to the finish line. As we propel ourselves to be the first, the greatest, the next best thing, don’t we want that assurance that if we feel like we’re drowning, someone’s standing on shore with the life preserver?

Love, Bea

Letter To Someone You Wish You Could Forgive

No one. I don’t want to hate anyone, and luckily there isn’t anyone in my life who I can honestly say I hate.

Love, Me

Letter To a Deceased person You wish You Could Talk To

I knew this letter was coming. As I’m sure most anyone who knows me did. The easiest part was deciding to write to you. The hardest part? What to say. The worst part of grieving is watching it diminish. Watching the person slip away, as you grow farther and farther away. Now, I look back and wonder if you would be happy with who I’ve become. If you would be. You were the first person I lost. Challenged my faith in God, nature, and myself. I gave up on myself and let the voices in my head override yours. How do you justify taking someone away, removing them from the hearts of many people? How do you justify that I wasn't able to meet my father? Then, though, I couldn’t yet imagine the worst. I cried for days straight, for the taught that If I had you what would my life be? Love, Bea

Letter To Someone You Don't Talk To As Much as You'd Like To

I'd have a long list of people to include in this letter. So, I'll probably generalize my message. Someday, I'll have the courage to start the converstation and discuss unfinished matters with you. I hope you wouldnt bother cooperating. I know It may seem awkward at first but I swear I'll try my best.

Letter To Your Favorite Internet Friend

I hate the word favorite. It’s not fair. It’s a big giant label that says, “you’re better”, and that’s not fair to everyone else. But if we’re being honest here, you’re probably the most selfless person I know that I’ve never met. Obviously you don’t know my life story or every detail or my existence, but I can tell you that your posts, your thoughts, and your ideas have saved me. You legitimately saved my life and you didn’t even know it. I was the girl next door with a broken head, and a lost sense of self. I was a slave to the distorted image of myself in the mirror, the one that said I wasn’t good enough of whatever. And you were the voice of the younger me, that said, quite firmly, “NO.” Your words were the ones I’d carried around silently in my head, afraid to speak them out loud because they were wrong. All wrong. Your words were the mirror image, the correct version of myself. Each time you embark on a new life-changing experience, that first step reminds me that there is hope. That out there in the world, there exists a whole realm of selfless people who believe in their own internal power to make the world a better place. You have taught me that I am doing no favor by belittling myself, by keeping locked away all the mini talents and passions I have to add to this world. By taking that first step, you encourage me. It’s a wonderful and comforting feeling to know that someone is just a few steps and that it’s not the wrong decision. It’s not wrong to doubt yourself occasionally. What’s important is that you always learn something. Each day, I learn. And you are so often the teacher. I look forward to each and every lesson that you craft for the hundreds of souls who have stumbled upon your musings. I hope that they value your willingness to share as much as I have to come to.

Love, @alenbeya

Letter To A Stranger

Heyy, In less than a few months, I’ve discovered that strangers do not always have to be strangers. Strangers can morph into friends. They can become people you know through a computer screen, brought together by a wireless connection that spans hundreds of thousands of miles. If there is one thing the Internet has done for me, it has taken the word “stranger” and redefined it. It has saved me from darkness, from being swallowed up in a pit of my own, self-constructed loneliness. This blog alone has made the idea of a “stranger” seem like a foreign concept. Each person I encounter through posts, comments and trackbacks becomes a potential friend. An instantaneous kindred spirit of sorts. Stranger, I do not know you, but we might be best friends. We might have obvious commonalities, both interested in the same bands, same movies, same music, same video games. Or our connection might be invisible, as we bond over our introverted personality traits, our tendency to view the world through a kaleidoscope of color. Even though we have never met face-to-face, we can still share a connection. You can still read the words I type and try to feel the way I do. I can still smile and laugh with you. And we can be friends. Stranger, let’s be friends. Love, Bea

Letter To Your Ex-Crush

To the person that I used to be crazy with.

I am not a quitter. 

Dear x crush :) On any given month, I waver between whether or not I made the right choice. Not ending what we had, but in allowing you to start it. It’s the million-dollar question, the one that nobody ever wants to ask, but the one so many keep coming back to. Would it have been better, in the beginning, to just be friends? I can honestly say, with certainty, that I made the right decision. If I had to go back to that time, I wouldn’t change my answer. Because what we had change us to what we believe be a much better person. And we did own the world for a while, like all naïve high school kids do. I believe that you forced me to grow up. If it weren’t for you, I probably never would have let myself love anyone. I would have been just fine never going beyond that. But after everything fell apart, we both hit rock bottom. We spread our love like cinnamon sugar on buttered toast. So sweet and never enough but rough and bitter after a while. We were all highs and lows with no middle. You’re a great friend. I didn’t figure that out until a few months ago, but you always had this great mind that actually understand my craziness. I know you are wiser now. Because if you love some girl half as much as you thought you loved me, she’ll be lucky. This is your life. I know we already discussed it a long time ago and I am very happy that we are able to be friends and talk again like nothing ever happened. Love, Bea

Letter To Your Dreams

Hey, I think I decided to amass as many of you as possible when I was about fourteen. I asked one of my friends if it was possible to be an artist, engineer, doctor, programmer and chef. “Look in the mirror,” she said. And there was my answer. Since then, it’s been all about you. You are my reason for getting up in the morning, the most important incentive to throw off the covers and hop out of my bed. My only apology is for not being able to give each of you adequate attention. For not sticking with one of you. You push me in a million little directions and try to force me into choosing. And I say “no.” On any given day, I look in the mirror and say: “I want to come one step closer to accomplishment today. I want to be a painter and an engineer. I'll study hard to get good grades to get into a good university.” “I can do it.” I always think. On more than one occasion I’ve laughed at myself for my complete lack of normal thought processes. If that’s what I wake up wanting to do, I’m going to do it. You have nothing to worry about. I will not neglect you. I will not forget about you or push you to the back burner. I can’t sleep because I’m busy trying to reach you. I’m up all night thinking about you. You run through my mind all day like a cheesy pickup line. And even though I don’t get everything done every day, I think about how long it will take to get to you. How close I am to being there. To taking a magic wand and flicking it at you, turning you into reality. I want to spin around with my eyes closed and see you come to life in front of me. I have always been a dreamer. John Lennon is my homeboy, my kindred spirit. It is not a matter of beginning. It is a matter of directing myself. If I can dream it, I can do it. Proton thinking!

Yours, dreamer

Letter To Your Sister

Hi Panget! :) You are amazing. I thought about a million other ways to start, but there is no other place but that. I envy you for your ability to be who you are every day without a care in the world. I envy your innocence, the way you still shine and brighten each day. I hope you never lose that. There are millions of people in the world who have never met you, who cannot even begin to know what they are missing. I am sure thousands of them would love you if they met you. I hope you never let anyone walk all over you, that you deserve more appreciation than you’re given. I hope someday a boy falls in love with you for the person you are, not the person he wants you to be. The other day, I started thinking about what would happen if I had more than one sister. Would I be filled up with so much love that the word “depression” would erase itself from the dictionary in my heart? I know that I will never be you, that I will never dress the same, say the same things, think the same way, and reach the same heights as you but that’s what I love: waking up each day, two hundred miles away, knowing you have not changed. That you have not compromised yourself. And that you still believe in my capabilities. So many people in this world love you. You are true to yourself and your infectious energy can change the world.

Thank you. I know we don't talk to much, but this is what I think of you. I think of you as the most amazing person even though we always fight and seldom talks at home. I look up to you so much. I try so hard to be on the same ground as you but up until now I still havent figured it out yet.

Thank you for believing that I could change.

Love, Bea

baryallen-deactivated20150321 :

"I imagined you saying that under different circumstances…very platonic circumstances." (inspiration)

Day 3 - Letter to Your Parents

Dear Mom, 

Mom, thank you for showing me what a true battle looks like. For never giving up and for still being an active, involved, dedication mother to my sister and me, even when you clearly didn’t have the energy to do so.

Mom, thank you for showing me how to fight for what I believe in. In life, love, and everything in between. For giving me the strength to stand up for myself and expect nothing less than the very best.

Mom, thank you for passing on your belief in greater things that are entirely out of my control. That everything happens for a reason, and we’ll one day figure out why. That there are moments we experience that provide comfort and a sense of self that we can’t explain.

And, for that, I need to truly thank you – something I don’t think I’ve appropriately done to date.