Greetings, midnight owls. I was just scrolling through different communities, trying to find one that felt like home, and I could say faith led me here. As I went through some of the posts and prompts, something about this place resonated deeply with me. The Midnight Letters prompt #6 caught my attention because there is so much I have always wanted to say to my past self about the quiet hours of midnight.
Growing up, I never really learned how to rely on anyone. Independence became something I held on to, not because I wanted to, but because I had no other choice. There was no one to lean on, no one to assure me that everything would be okay. I was never someone’s favorite, never the one people chose first. So I learned to do everything on my own, to figure things out piece by piece, even when I was too young to understand what I was doing. I had to grow up while still learning what growing up even meant.
Sometimes I sit in silence and wonder how she, the younger version of me, ever made it through those days. She was so young and fragile, yet she carried a world of weight on her shoulders. I do not blame her for anything because I know she was only trying to survive. She was scared of being misunderstood, scared of being labeled as something she never wanted to be. There were times she cried quietly at night, wishing someone would understand, but no one did. Still, she kept going.
I am not angry at her, and I do not regret anything she went through. But sometimes I wish I could reach back in time and just hold her for a moment. I want to tell her that it was never her fault, that the strength she thought she lacked was already inside her all along. That she did not have to face it all alone, yet she did, and that makes her so much stronger.
It was 12:24 at midnight when I started writing this. The world around me was silent, but my mind was wide awake. The darkness outside matched the quiet weight of my thoughts, and I found myself sinking into them. Midnight has always been a mirror of reflection for me, a moment when the past feels closer than ever. I thought about how many times I let myself be alone, how many nights I refused to open my doors for help. I had convinced myself that solitude was strength, that silence was safety. But now I realize that strength is also about letting people in, about allowing yourself to be loved and supported.
Sometimes I wonder how many versions of myself I have outgrown without even noticing. I think of the dreams I once carried, the ones I believed would save me. They feel distant now, like old songs I no longer remember the words to. It is strange how we live inside ourselves every day yet fail to see how much we are changing. We only notice the transformation when we look back and see how far we have come, realizing how many lives we have already lived in the same skin.
The person I am today feels different from the person I once was. I have learned to open my heart, to trust, and to let people in even when it feels risky. I have learned that not every bond will last, but every connection will teach something worth keeping. When friendships or relationships failed, I no longer saw them as wounds but as lessons that shaped me. I now carry gratitude instead of bitterness, peace instead of regret.
To my past self, I want to say thank you. Thank you for choosing to keep going when giving up seemed easier. Thank you for holding on to hope even when everything felt uncertain. You taught me resilience, courage, and the quiet power of believing in yourself when no one else did. The independence you held onto became the foundation of the person I am today.
We may still be far from where we dream to be, but I am proud of how far we have come. You never gave up on me even when life made it hard to breathe. You kept believing that there was something better ahead. And now, here I am, living the life we once dreamed of in small and quiet ways.
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STOPyes. we live. we learn. we grow.. :)
nice posts keep this position so you can grow in the hive