I want to thank you. Thank you for being the steady breeze that keeps me aloft. Thank you for being my air when my chest caves in. Thank you for impromptu movie marathons. Thank you for days spent on sugar rushes and energy drinks. Thank you for all those moments in tense silence reading the same book. Thank you for hearing my silence.
I am grateful to have someone like you. I can tell you I’m not okay and you won’t shame me, blame me, or punish me. I can smile at you knowing that you can see what lies behind it and it won’t scare you away. You didn’t tell me to get over it, or move on, or ask if I tried not thinking horrid thoughts; you held me, you cried with me, you sat with me. When I’m with you I can feel my existence begin to mean something. I can feel myself letting go of the hate I have for myself. People tell me that I have many reasons to live, that I have so much to see and do… No matter how many adventures I might have from here on, no matter how many things I find that make me happy to be alive, there’s only one reason I chose to live, and that’s you.
I am thankful that I get to send you a thank you letter instead of a suicide letter. Should you ever feel as though no one needs you, please read this again as many times as you need. I am alive because of you. You’re my somebody.
I’ve always loved the way nature looks in winter. The dried cracked leaves, the withered trees, the rain swollen clouds lumbering across the sky… A lot of people I know don’t like winter for those reasons. Nature is dead and to them it’s hideous. To me it’s breathtaking. As withered, cracked, decayed, and uninviting as they are in winter trees will always be my favorite. Even seemingly near death, in the of harsh dilapidating winter months, trees refuse to be brought down. Their leaves have abandoned them, humans no longer seek them for shade, but, instead cut them down to burn them up, all their knots and weak branches now exposed; yet still they stand. They still reach toward the heavens and follow the sun. In the worst months of their lives, trees still find a reason to be. They know who they are and where they stand, they know from where they get their strength, they know that winter will not last. Rain and snow and sleet and hail, come what may, they’ll make it through. Even in tornadoes and hurricanes, if they get torn from the ground, they’ve dropped seeds that ensure they will continue. I’d love to live among the trees for a little bit, just to see if i can borrow a bit of their hope and resilience. Until then, I will sit here by the window, watch the rain, and drink a cup or two of hot chocolate and admire the trees swaying and dancing among the wind and rain.