A Letter From Me to You
Everything was how it should be. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't great, either. Everything was normal, and it felt good. Every weekday, we went to school, commuted, met up with friends, studied in a classroom, ate on our breaks, and then went home. The majority of the time, this happens. We get to make a lot of memories and strengthen our bond. People my age seemed to be getting along just fine. For example, I was doing well and took excellent care of myself previously. My health was OK, my grades were excellent, and I had high self-esteem.
Until the epidemic struck, and everything came to a halt for a brief moment. Then it all came tumbling down on top of me. I felt as though I was being robbed of my reality the longer I stayed in my room. Every day, it seemed as if taking a breath was becoming incredibly hard. I lost my drive to accomplish things, lost interest in things I used to adore, and my confidence and self-esteem continued to plummet—it was as if I'd reached rock bottom. I didn't have the courage to ask for help, to vent my anxieties, to attempt to lessen the burden by expressing the ache in my chest; I didn't know what to do. It was difficult to hear people say it's fine if you try to seek help, but I had this unpleasant sensation inside me, as if it was telling me that I would just burden those who would listen to me. I never wanted to burden others by only trying to tell what I feel. It was so difficult. I was completely lost.
We'd been confined inside our homes for a year owing to the epidemic. I once glanced in the mirror and stared at myself for a long time. I was reflecting by looking at my reflection on the mirror. Do I really want to be trapped with how I am for how long? I asked myself. Of course, I didn't want to spend so much time at the bottom. I'd had enough of feeling helpless and miserable. For the first time in my life, I felt compelled to consider an array of ways for helping myself in climbing out of the hole I had dug for myself. "To be okay" was the only thing that came to me as I tried to figure out how to heal myself.
It was never an easy process. I tried concentrating on one issue or problem at a time, then moving on to the next when I had gained a better understanding of myself in relation to that issue or problem. I was taking baby steps and making gradual modifications, taking my time and not rushing my healing. What made me feel at ease was when I was really slowly fixing myself. I was progressively working my way up to how I was, but first and foremost to a better me. And just like that, I found myself getting closer to getting out of my pit. I became grateful for everything; I was able to get in a friend circle where I feel safe, I have friend whom I can trust and sense that they care deeply for me, my family and I became closer ever since I opened up to them, I got back to performing well at school, and most importantly, I was able to appreciate and forgive myself.
I wrote this letter from me to you. You, with your almost-dead eyes, full of hopelessness and misery, can find hope. You were caught in a situation where you didn't know how to relieve yourself or how to move forward. You sought help, and all you needed was someone to listen and understand your true feelings. You needed to cry and express your emotions. A gentle reminder that it's perfectly fine not to be okay. Even if you are in a dark and frigid place, you will eventually be able to see the light and feel warm. It's exhausting, but the pain will be worth it once you're able to breathe normally without feeling anxious.
You will be okay.