one thousand nine hundred and thirteen

dear the me of two thousand and twelve

it has been one thousand

nine hundred

and thirteen days

since the world stopped spinning

since you came home happy,

unafraid

and your mother sat you on the couch

and whispered the words in your ear

she keeps talking but you no longer hear

a thing

that she has to say

it has been one thousand

nine hundred

and four days

since you came back home

from Louisiana

from relatives you rarely see

why is it

that most often people reunite

for tragedy

it has been one thousand

nine hundred

and one days

since you went back to school

seventh graders do not understand

how to respect someone’s privacy

it became so much easier

to just

shut everyone out

however

from the ashes

of the girl

(yourself)

that you burned down

rose a phoenix

fiery

powerful

and so much stronger

they say a personal tragedy destroys you

or reforms you

you will choose reform

do not be afraid

of the hurt

and the grief

it only makes you so much stronger

and though you miss them

every

single

day

fear has no power

over love

sincerely, the me of two thousand and eighteen