Dear friend,
The Perks of Being a Wallflower is everything. I thought we'd start there.
On November 17, 2017, I posted my first words on The Avocado and Me. I was barely fourteen-years-old; about six months from now, I'll be eighteen. There are some things I think you should know.
First and foremost, I don't actually like avocados very much. I've had avocado toast maybe five times, and it's good, but it has never been and will never be my favorite. Semi-burnt toast with butter and blueberry jam, yes. The name just sounded nice at the time.
Secondly. I am not proud of and will not reread much of what I've written here. Some of it makes me feel ashamed. This has been both a burial ground and a garden -- all of it hurts, a little. I am so grateful you are here, but know your presence is also deeply uncomfortable. I write what I feel incapable of voicing. When I write, I do not imagine you on the other end. It is strange to have people so close to the core of who I am, especially when I do not and cannot know them in the same way. You can find too much of me here. Stumbling much, aching much, wonderful. Perhaps that is good.
I hope you understand when I say I'm going, for now. This has been my growing up; I will grow on. This has been a culmination of my firsts; I am excited for seconds. I am going to write stories and memories in blue ink, and capture orange tulips. I am going to figure out how to fall asleep to traffic lights. I'm going to shed realities like silk.
This place will stay. It will always be open to you, and I will always be on the other end. My email is well and alive.
Thank you for bearing witness to my bellyaches. Thank you for sending me your stories. Thank you for holding my hand and letting me know it will all be okay. This feels very inadequate a goodbye, but know I mean every word of it. And, to end as we began:
"I don't know if I will have time to write any more letters, because I might be too busy trying to participate. So, if this does end up being the last letter, I just want you to know... you helped me. Even if you didn't know what I was talking about, or know someone who's gone through it, you made me feel not alone..."
Remember to wash your socks. Remember to accept love you think you don't deserve. Remember:
"You are alive. And you stand up and see the lights on the buildings and everything that makes you wonder. And you're listening to that song, and that drive with the people who you love most in this world. And in this moment, I swear, we are infinite."
Charlie. Stephen Chbosky. The Perks of Being A Wallflower.
Thank you for being my friend.
Love always,
Maya
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