Dear 16-year-old me

I've never understood why people do this. What good does writing to one's past self do? They can't change anything. They can't prepare for what's to come. But I think it's less a warning and more a reflection. It's more about talking about your life, your feelings, your experiences, your mistakes from a different point of view.

You create these different people. Characters of a story. Sixteen-year-old you is just a character. Present you is just a character. And you talk with honesty because it's a conversation between two characters. You are a bystander in this situation. You remove yourself from the equation.

So here goes.

You wrote this in 2016.

"It's sad when people go from being part of your daily routine to someone whose life you only know through their Facebook posts. It's even sadder when you realize that the distance between you and people you once considered part of your life was created not by them but by you, through your fear of further disappointments and heartbreak, your fear of people and interaction and mostly, your inability to trust people, love, and have control of your feelings."

It may seem like a long time into your future but it feels like a long way into my past. And yet, it was pretty recent. A year after Athamma passed away. I think back to that time. Who was I friends with? About whom did I write this?

I can picture myself, scrolling down my timeline and seeing a status update from someone I used to be irl friends with. But I realise we no longer talk. We have been demoted to Facebook friends. And in that moment, I type this status, publish it, hope they would see it and know it's about them.

But now, in 2021, I have no clue who this person is because there are so many strong candidates. Half my Facebook friend list are people I was once close to. People I used to talk to regularly. People who knew me.

I'm 27 and I don't really have anything real to talk about in terms of relationships of any kind. None of them last long enough. All I have are snapshot memories. Thoughts of what could have been.

I slipped into old habits recently. It's not that I stopped trying. I didn't sit down and make that decision. I just didn't try. I didn't do my part in making a friendship work. Every single morning, I would wake up and tell myself to reach out to this person but then morning would pass, afternoon would pass, evening would pass, and night would pass. I repeated this day after day after day.

And then, instead of realising what I was doing - or rather, not doing - I had let weeks pass since our last proper conversation. And I thought, hell, I knew I'd done something to hurt them or push them away but I never actually considered what I had said or done and what I could do to fix this.

I accepted that I had possibly lost the most precious thing I had in life and it hurt but it was all too familiar. I was used to people leaving. I was used to friendships not lasting. I was used to this.

But they didn't leave. They gave me time and then knocked some sense into me. And I'm trying now. I want to make this work. I want to put in every morsel of energy I have into making this work even though love and friendship of this kind is not a chore or job. And I can't thank this person enough for not letting this ship sink.

And now, I can't help wondering about all those ships that have sunk since I was in my teens. What if I had tried? What if I had held on to people instead of letting them slip away?

Would I have more than these snapshot memories?

So this didn't work out. This two characters having a conversation, removing myself from the plot move. But because tying all this rambling together is important, let me tell you this, 16-year-old me.

"One of our greatest freedoms is how we react to things" - Charlie Mackesy

Throughout life, I have remained passive to the things happening around me. When Mami, Ammi and Aiya came back from the hospital and it was obvious that Athamma had died, I felt a wave of sadness wash over me. But Mami, meaning well, probably knowing my tears will unleash his own, told me to open the door for them without crying. So I didn't cry. I held it in. I didn't react to the greatest loss in my life.

When Thathee left and I got home after school and saw how empty his room was, I just stood there, took it all in, and accepted it. I didn't react to the fact that our family was in shambles.

When this boy leaned into me and his hands reached out to me, I just sat there. I didn't feel any of that burning passion books and movies talk about. I felt detached. I felt like a bystander.

I've let things happen to and around me all my life without ever actually reacting to them. I just let them happen and move on. And this may seem like it works but it only causes a buildup of emotion and questions and fears and sadness in you. It clogs your arteries. It hardens in your throat. It collects in the pit of your stomach.

And as this buildup filled my insides, everything on the outside fell apart. Friendships never lasted long. Relationships weren't even a possibility. I walked away from opportunity and hope and promise.

So here we are, in 2021, wondering who I was talking about in 2016. Thinking about the people we knew at 18. Thinking about the people we knew at 16. All of them people of the past because I didn't do anything to make them people of the present.

So much lost because of a failure to act.

I can't change the past. And I won't attempt to drag the past into the present and future by reaching out to these people and apologising. I will let these people be. But I can change the today and tomorrow. I can be more than a bystander. I can react to the things that happen in my life.

And more than being able to, I must do all of these things. Instead of accepting that people always leave, I need to make things work. I need to fight for people.