This is a letter from my older self to my younger self, using the advantage of hindsight and the possibility of time travel inspired by sci-fi movies. I hope you will believe me when I say that I am you, and to prove it, I will reveal a secret that only you and I know: you used to pray to God to take away the pain of the world and put it on a small part of your body for ten seconds. You thought you were strong enough to handle it, even though your mom warned you not to do that. You were such a compassionate and naive boy.
Dear little boy,
This is your older self, writing to you.
You may not understand some of the words I use, but I know you love reading dictionaries, so you can look them up later. I want to tell you something important.
You see, when I was a boy, just like you, I had a lot of dreams and hopes. I wanted to help everyone and make the world a better place. I was very empathetic and energetic. I felt everything deeply and passionately. I was also very naive and innocent. I didn’t know much about the reality of life and the suffering that people go through.
My family used to tell me stories about the bad things happening around the world. They told me how people die from wars, hunger, diseases, and violence. They told me how people lose their homes, their families, their friends, and their dignity. They told me how lucky I was to have food, a house, and a safe environment. They told me to be grateful and happy.
And I was happy. I loved running around and playing with my toys. I loved learning new things and exploring new places. I loved being a boy. But I also felt sad for the people who were not happy. I felt sorry for the people who were in pain. I wanted to do something for them.
So, one day, I made a wish. I asked God to let me feel the pain of the world for just ten seconds. I thought that if I could take away some of their pain, they would feel better. I thought that if I could share their burden, they would be less alone. I thought that if I could show them some kindness, they would have some hope.
I was very brave and generous to make that wish. But I was also very foolish and ignorant. Little did I know that the wish I made that day would change my life forever.
I regret, doubt, and feel insecure about what I have done and faced in my life. I think I might have wished something stupid when I was a kid that became true later on, without me knowing or agreeing to it. I wonder if this is how life is supposed to be or if some higher power is messing with me. I also think about how much love and care I got as a child, and how it might influence my ability to cope and be happy as an adult. I wish I could know how strong I am in my mind and how I compare to who I was before and who I will be later. I also want to be ready for any problems that might come up in the future. Sometimes, I miss the innocence and joy I felt as a little boy.
The man I am today is a result of overcoming many challenges and learning from my past self. But this feeling of confidence is not permanent. How can I maintain it? How can I grow from the experiences of a boy who was once me? A lot, actually. That boy is the foundation of this man. That boy had dreams and aspirations that shaped me into who I am now. But he also faced many hardships and struggles that he wished he could avoid. He used to keep track of the days he did not cry, as if that was a measure of his strength. He reached up to 290 days, but he never made it a year.
But as he grew older, his cry calendar became less important than his other responsibilities and relationships.
He realized that crying was not a weakness, but a natural expression of emotions. He apologized to the people who he used as his pillows to cry on, without considering their feelings or needs.
He did not mean to hurt them, he just needed an outlet. But now he cries less and thinks less. He does not ask God for his old wish anymore, but for strength to help himself and others. He understands that he needs to take care of himself first, before he can help anyone else. He remembers the reason why airlines tell you to put on your own oxygen mask first, before assisting others. He knows that he is strong, physically and mentally, but he also knows that he needs to love himself more. He hopes that his future self will tell him the same thing, even if he thinks he knows it all. He jokes about his own arrogance, but he is sincere in his self-reflection. He looks forward to meeting his 37-year-old self, and seeing how much he has changed and grown. He loves himself, and he expresses his love to his family and friends more often. He does not hold back his hugs or his emotions.
Love, 27-year-old Leonardo.
I love you.
(P.S. Hug your family and friends more often. Don’t half-ass it.)