To be read in a British accent. (Imitation, they say, is the sincerest flattery or some such, what?)
Yes, I'm talking to you, luv. The one who is so afraid to try lest you fail- again.
First of all, let’s dispense with that nonsense
About not having your sheit together.
You are kind, wise, witty,
And for the most part unpretentious...
(Did I say for the most part?
Because that’s an important bit, not to be left out.
Oh, sweetie, we all struggle in that cosmic battle for balance
Between humility and ambition.)
You have dreams you tossed to the wayside
Because you surmised, someone thought you were too proud to handle them.
But have you considered that maybe it was not a test at all
But just a normal dose of chaos you weren’t taught to anticipate?
Let it go, darling.
Let it go.
You are not a failure.
You are only in need of a bit of encouragement and a large portion of confidence.
You’re not allowed to give up.
I won’t let you.
It’s no use arguing.
Whenever you spout that sort of rot, I’ll simply call you on it
Because I love you and you’re just going to have to get used to that fact.
Cheer up and cheerio, luv.
This dispatch brought to you by your inner terribly fake-british alter ego,
Miss Ava Nora Anomaly
Letter From Ava, read aloud by the author.
Written from the "write an ode to yourself" prompt during our December write-in for the 40 Days of Poetry challenge, a particularly wonderful branch from the Story Sessions Community.