I Met My Younger Self for Tea Today

 I met my younger self for tea today. I showed up on time, just as I always do now.

She was late, and her mom was outside waiting for her. She always hated being late and always felt like the world was watching, judging. I admired that about her once, her eagerness and urgency, but now, I see the anxiety beneath it. 

She ordered a Caramel Macchiato with extra caramel, the same drink she’d clung to for years as if sweetness could mask the bitterness life had handed her. I ordered a London Fog, something smoother, softer, comforting. Our choices said more about us than we realized.

Her hair was jet black with extensions, long and dramatic, an armor she wore to face the world. Mine is my natural color now, with bangs that frame my face. She looked at my hair with curiosity, maybe even longing. She hasn’t yet learned that her beauty doesn’t come from how she hides but from how she embraces herself.

She was navigating the life of being sexually assaulted, carrying the weight of trauma she didn’t ask for, trying to find her prince charming or, rather, her toad. She still believes love will fix her, that a perfect romance will erase the pain. I told her not to worry, that she would find her true love, that she would get through her trauma, and that one day, the past wouldn’t hold her hostage anymore.

She laughed. Not because she thought I was lying, but because she couldn’t see it yet. She twisted her purity ring around her finger, a nervous habit, a symbol of control in a life where she felt powerless. I remember that feeling.

She told me her greatest fear was how others perceived her, that every glance and whisper felt like judgment. I told her my greatest fear is losing myself to chronic illness, to something I can’t fight with willpower alone. Her world is about external validation; mine is about internal preservation. We are both fighting battles no one else can see.

She told me she wanted to be more like me, that she wished she had my confidence, my strength. What she didn’t know yet was that I was becoming our wildest dream, the version of us she never imagined possible. I had stopped letting the fears of others weigh me down and instead started seeing the positive, lifting myself up. She once feared the world would break her, but I now know that we were always meant to rise. I smiled because she didn’t know yet that she already did. She just hasn’t grown into it.

And yet, there are parts of her that I miss. Her reckless hope. Her ability to dream without limits. Her unwavering belief that the world would eventually make sense. But I didn’t tell her that she needs time to grow. She needs to get there on her own.

We parted ways, and she hesitated before saying, "I don't think I will ever really be happy."

I looked at her, at the girl I once was, and said, "You will. One day, you will turn your pain into your superpower, and nobody will ever be able to take it away from you again."

She left hopeful, and I left grateful.

I hope to meet her for tea again.

      

- Payton Blackwood