I have this secret box of letters. They contain handwritten notes from birthdays, occasions, and even no occasions from people who once knew me. On bad days, lost days, and transition days of disorientation- I turn to these letters for comfort. I will spend an hour sitting cross legged or sometimes flat on the cold ground, with letters, cards, and papers strewn all across the floor. Sometimes I arrange them in chronological order, sometimes I arrange them by the sender, and sometimes I take a second look at the ones from the people I once thought really mattered at a point of time in my life.
You see, at one point or another- these letters are physical proof of the type of person other people think you are. Their expectations of me even, my strengths and weaknesses from their perspectives. These letters, remind me of the importance of continuity of who or what I should aspire to be, and they remind me that if you get lost you can always be found, simply because you are always, always loved.