Dear Me

*Note: This story mentions sexual abuse, mental health issues, it has a few curse words, mentions of self-harm and drug abuse. Please read with caution.*

                                                                                      March 1, 2025

   Dear Me,

When we were younger, the world had so much color. Lucky charms had bright colored marshmallows, the grass was super green like emeralds, and don't get me started on how bright those McDonald's play grounds were. Our world was so colorful when we were mere children. And now, it's just blue. Blue, the world is the color blue. Not the color of calmness or protection, but of sadness or depression, whatever is opposite of inspiration. The shade of coldness, of greed, and of pain; our eyes only see blue. Yellow has been sucked out of the word happiness, green has been evaporated out of peace, and white has been drained out of hope. Our world is blue. I know I keep repeating it, but what else can I say, what else can I use to describe the world through my eyes? Simple, I can't. I can't. I can, not. My world is blue, but not the same blue as the sky. I see blue, but not the shade of the ocean. It's blue but not the same as Neptune.

Remember when we were younger and we would go outside, the little patch of thick brush and trees were so... green. We could breathe in fresh air, our worries were left behind the trailer's front door, and the world was so bright. Remember how it felt when the sun light would touch your face? How warm and nice it felt? It felt yellow. Or maybe that one time when we went to Kentucky Kingdom, my uncle had us go on that one water slide. Or maybe when you took that picture with Daffy duck or Goofy, we laughed so much that day. I remember eating so much junk food and drinking so many different flavored drinks that day. It tasted like a mix of orange and pink.

  Hey, remember Hudson in 5th grade? I had such a crush on him, I thought my stomach was filled with moths every time I was even around him. His eyes were the prettiest color of brown too. His laugh was so contagious, or at least I thought so. The hugs were tight and warm, his cologne was intoxicating, and his voice- oh his voice was like warm milk. I used to see in red.

  Life has changed, I'm almost 28 while you're still 8 years old. And I know at 13 you'll swear off having children, well news flash; you're not only married but you have three children now. Olen, he's the oldest, nonverbal autism. I know you don't know this now, but he will be the best thing that'll ever happen to you. Alex, she's the middle child, very ADHD, but she lights up a room. And finally the youngest, she's the most special out of the three: Enne. What does that last bit have to do with how I see the world? A lot actually. You see, Olen's eyes are the color of the ocean but Alex's are the shade of meadows, and Enne's are the shade of the sky. Blue. Two out of three are blue. Your future children have the color of what you will see the world in when you finally get to this age. I write this letter to warn you, to give you a heads up. The world loses color. 8 year old me (that's you) still sees the world in full color but 13 year old me (that's you in 5 years) will begin to see the colors fade. They will fade like the sun does to your senior band shirt you leave in the car all summer long. The reds will turn yellow, the yellows turn white, and those white simply turn blue.

  Okay, I think I'm getting ahead of myself a bit. I said this letter was to warn you. Warn you (8 year old me) that the world loses its color. And it does. Forget about the little tidbit about our children and just listen to me. The world loses its colors. The world loses its colors. The world will lose its colors. And there is nothing you can do to stop it. Right now you've thought cooking bacon in the microwave was a great idea, well, just long enough to go play with Skylar, and Cassidy outside. Breaking news, Cassidy isn't a good mom. Well neither are you. You've gained so much weight, your hair is thinning out, and you have so many mental illnesses that you should be committed. But this color blue bullshit is really getting to me. 

Dear 8 year-old Me,

The world is not as it seems. It's not the Disney movie where the princess is always saved. It's not all pink and purple with talking animals and whimsy dresses.

Dear 13 year-old Me,

Locking yourself in the bathroom while you silently cry and make the color red seep out doesn't actually help. Your eyes see red and black, and that small little dot of white outside of the doorway.

Dear 16 year-old Me,

You're really stupid if you think you can trust him. He's not cool, he's a drunk and his tongue tells lies. He tastes like green, but the green is greedy and you'll feel the brown decay.

Dear 19 year-old Me,

You think life had gotten better, but it hasn't. Now, I watch you spiral out of control for a fix that you think is going to make you see colors. You are told that by taking that pill you will see in color, any color outside of this fucking blue. But it's all a lie. It's still all blue.

Dear 21 year-old Me,

I'm writing you this letter because you're 12 hours from getting your induction paperwork. Olen, remember how I mentioned him? Yeah him, with the ocean blue eyes. Yes, him, the nonverbal one with autism. Blue. His eyes are blue. We didn't see the world in the same bright colors as we did when we were 8. The hospital room had colors, yes, but they were faded, dim, dull. I tried to smile, to act happy. We were told that giving birth would be the greatest day of our lives. But we now know that was a lie. It was bullshit.

Dear 8 year-old Me,

  Let's time skip to Enne. 23-year-old us, well we almost died. Twice. Enne's eyes are the sky, blue of course. But they're not the same shade of blue. Not the world as we saw it when we were 13 or 16 or even 19. But they're blue. She's special. Like I mentioned before, like way long before in this rant letter. Enne and Olen are the same. No, they're vastly different but they are the same. Both are nonverbal, they are disabled, and they will forever live at home. Their eyes are blue.

Remember Alex? Yeah she's a handful, born 19 months after Olen but 11 months and 2 weeks before Enne. She sings, dances; Alex sees the colors of the world. I can see it in her eyes, those green eyes. Green eyes. Alex is smart. She is wonderful, she is full of life that we had at the age of 4, and she's a picky eater. She is everything we once were. She likes the color purple, pink, green, and blue.

Life is kinda funny, well not really. Alex hasn't realized it yet, but the colors she sees will fade. they will turn into one color through her green eyes. Green eyes. Not blue. Our world is blue. But not hers. Her world hasn't faded. It is seemingly thriving and full of life and color and it hasn't faded.

Dear current Me,

It's 2:28 pm, my husband is angry again. His words are sharp, but it's not what it seems. He's tired. Olen and Alex were up all night again. Enne still hasn't slept in over 12 hours, and I feel like ripping my hair out. My husband is angry. But not the voice raising angry or the kind of fist through the wall angry. He's tired. My husband is tired. He is tired of seeing red. His world faded into the color red. Which red? I wouldn't know. I can't see any other color out of blue. My eyes see blue because the world still has lost its colors. The day we turned 8 years old, is the day the world faded into blue. It is the day the world stopped having color. It just became blue.