#Mrs Libkins was the name of my elementary school librarian and she was the warmest and most loving person ever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dank-meme-legend · 8 months

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Hi, Morgan. This you from the future, I am nineteen years old.

If I use too many big words, then please take this letter to the library. I am sure Mrs. Libkins won’t mind reading it to you, or at least helping you figure it out; you’re a very bright girl, after all.

I am nineteen years old, you are six years old. You’re getting a hard time from your teachers. You like to rock in your chair and for whatever reason, everyone around you has a problem with that. I will tell you, even all this time later, I still don’t get what all the fuss is about.

You will be fine, I want to know that. Things will, unfortunately, get worse for you. But you will come out on the other side. You are strong, a very strong girl. I don’t mean to scare you; you will have moments of joy in-between all the pain, but things will be rough for a long time. They never really stop being rough, but things do ease up. You learn how to manage things, how to manage yourself.

For a long time, you will be alone. You’ll be adverse to the other girls in your class in elementary and middle school, but you’ll meet a nice, nerdy girl in a technology class in sixth grade and you will find peace in having a girl on your side. A girl who thinks you’re funny. A girl who tries to understand you the best she can. You two will have bumps in the road, big bumps, even. You’ll go months without talking and you will feel alone again, you will be scared of what being alone means. But it isn’t your fault that your other friends will move away; that is what we call a product of circumstance.

It isn’t your fault.

I’ll tell you about your friends: the girl from your tech class and two others will have the greatest impact, they will get you through school.

The first is a boy with long, curly hair that you mistake for a girl when you first meet him. He cuts his hair in the middle of sixth grade and you were used to it when it was long, you liked it a little better. He is tall, very tall and he gives wonderful hugs. He loves cartoons and he talks about them a lot. He loves Adventure Time and Gravity Falls and other greats, and you will spend a lot of time with him during lunch, looking at fan-art online and listening to him ramble. You’ll fall in love with him, a (not-so) little crush, but it won’t feel right. You’ll think about him often, but the idea of being his girlfriend makes you feel sick. The idea of kissing him or, Heaven forbid, marrying him, are thoughts you avoid when your family asks about him. He moves away during eleventh grade and you don’t get to properly say goodbye. You still call him or message him sometimes, but that’s part of growing up. Things are alright.

And the second is a kid who is very, very short. He tells you that he was a girl in a past life, and that isn’t a completely foreign concept. You met a kid like him in middle school, and that middle school boy was on your side. You were both outcasted for completely separate reasons; you got to see that someone had it worse than you, really worse. That boy from middle school is doing alright now.

But you meet the very, very short boy in high school and you fall in love with the girl he once was in that past life. You couldn’t tell a soul. And you felt relief when he told you he was a boy and not a girl. You couldn’t be liable for being queer.

He is the first person you ever meet you has depression, he says it right out loud on the days where the sky is gray and heavy. And even on the sunniest of days, he was still down. You understood it but you didn’t know how to help. You ask him very literally at thirteen years old, “How can I help make you happy?” and he laughs tiredly and tells you that’s not how it works. You would do anything for him, he becomes your best friend for a short time. (Not for long, don’t worry) You will give up yourself to help him, and you have to gather the pieces of Morgan up again.

You succeed, I told you that you are bright.

Strangely, the nerdy girl who grows up with you becomes the one you fall in love with. But this cannot be denied. You are liable. You tell her and for a moment in time, she is liable in her own way. But nothing ever happens, she beat around the bush of things she wanted, of how she wanted you, to love you.

You decide to get over her and you do it in the worst way possible; you fall in love again, but this love is so, so cruel. This person violates your soul, kicks and punches your heart that is always trying to repair itself. Over and over again, being kicked and ripped to shreds. It hurts, God, does it hurt you. You shouldn’t be hurt, you’re a good person. You don’t deserve to be hurt like you were. You’re over your nerdy best friend, but at what cost?

Things come to a head and the world implodes, you lose that love (for the better, was it really ever love if it hurt so much?) and you lose your best friend for the worst; you don’t talk to her for a long time.

But, even alone, you are okay. You manage, you live and I have always been proud of you for doing so.

Time goes on and spring comes. You’ve always liked springtime. You like the flowers and warm air, and chirping birds outside your window (you called them “spring birds” when you’d hear a certain birdsong. Even as an adult, you still call them that. Some things stay the same, and that’s alright).

With spring, you make amends. You have your nerdy, kind, loving best friend again, but she’s grown up some. So have you.

You make amends and come across springtime as a person. Pretty red hair, a smile that you think about often (you think about it a lot, your heart feels warm when you see it), a soft voice that could be its own birdsong; that’s how you feel about this girl who you would’ve loved to sit with while Mrs. Libkins read stories to you in some other, distant universe.

Morgan, it takes time, but you fall in love for a fifth time. Five has always been your lucky number. You trust springtime, you let her warmth in. She fills up the cracks of your heart with golden sunlight and you begin to trust again. It takes a long time. Sometimes, you push her away. You worry that she will fall into the patterns of those before her, but she doesn’t. You are safe. You grow up and find love and you find safety.

Feels good to know, doesn’t it? You get bullied in school and the world implodes around you, and you are scared. But you have good friends and the sweetest partner you could have ever dreamed of and a bright mind, always. Things turn out alright.

Now, your life isn’t perfect. It definitely is not perfect. But you learn that perfection doesn’t exist. Mom and Dad still fight and your baby sister grows up and you sit together and wait for the storm to pass; wait for the fight to end.

The tiny, waddling baby that you know becomes a big kid and, my goodness, she is cool. You grow up beside her and you help her all that you can. She’s your best friend in her own way, and she always will be.

You are always curious about the world and that doesn’t end. You have good people who ask about your curiosities and who adore your mind.

Morgan, you are small now, and you are worried about the future. But let me tell you one final time: you will be alright.

You will always end up on the other side, even with a few scars or bruises. You will be alright.

With love and big hugs,

Morgan, thirteen years into the future <3

#a letter to my younger self #but I’ve been thinking about this a lot; aboit what I’d say if I could talk to my younger self #specifically myself when bad things in my life began #Mrs Libkins was the name of my elementary school librarian and she was the warmest and most loving person ever #this is about growing up queer and autistic #not the main focus but a good bit of it #other than her. people’s names are kept private #this is me explaining concepts like trans people and other sorts of people to my kid self #the interesting thing about me is that my first queer crush was on a trans guy before he came out #that’s what ‘the girl he once was’ means. I don’t mean to be offensive-I hope that isn’t offensive #but if it is-I can reword it or change it #this is just me talking about my experiences but I still don’t want to harm anyone /gen

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