This is an open letter to my thirteen year old self .on its own it is just worthless drivel unless I somehow cross the chasm of the time-space continuum. Though it may seem like an effort in futility I feel compelled by something in me to embark on this seemingly pointless enterprise. So from here on out I address you my thirteen year old self.
I have an irrepressible urge to impart on you the infallible truth that life is nothing more than a disturbance of time. That you are an empty vessel that must learn how to fill itself. That failure to do so is at the mortal peril of your immortal soul.
I am seized by the compunction to advise you to abandon your innocence at the earliest opportunity that you should snap out of the rigors of its stupor lest rigor mortis sets in on your ambitions.
Speaking of which, I am overwhelmed by the desire to warn you of the hollow and false victory that a war of attrition has on ambition. I am duty bound to warn you also of the treachery of what beats in your chest. That the path you now tread will lead to the unraveling of self destruction.
I am compelled to divulge to you that fate is false. It is just a footnote on the voluminous pages of your inaction. Predestination is defeatist hogwash. Fatalists will tell you that there are questions best left unanswered. The world could do with a little more mystery. Pay them no heed.
I am dying to tell you that potential is portent but without content or commitment it devours itself, withers and dies. Experience is over rated. Convictions are often berated and perceptions easily altered. Trust me. I know. After all I posses the wisdom of hindsight
I want you to know that selfishness has its place in this world and that altruism will only propel you so far down the treacherous stream of life. To repel failure you need more than fervor.
I must muster the resolve to drive you to master yourself. Control is everything. Discretion should always be your true north. Mapping your future is easy, you will not always end up where the road should. If you succumb to the tempest it shall cast you where it wills.
I want to impress upon you the folly of romanticism of idealism. The nirvana of the philosopher’s stone lies not in alchemy but courses through your very essence. Finding yourself is not always what it is cut out to be.
If you grasp nothing else from this discourse, hold onto this with every fiber of your being. The truth is not always the correct answer but deceit is the straight and narrow to your doom.
Acknowledge that there is another plane in which you march inexorably into the twilight; there is no light at the end of that tunnel. You must be steadfast first. Do not be fast to quench every thirst that grips you.
Know also that derision is not the erosion of your vision but a distant horizon. Some decisions are intertwined with oblivion but on the pavilion of rationale you will decipher them and steer clear.
Hold your breadth and clutch your chest, the true test is not to rest on your quest. Never forget that the world could do with thirteen more of you my thirteen year old self.