A Message For My Fourteen-Year-Old Self

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“Never forget where you came from”

You’ll tell that to a lot of people
Over the next few years.
A few of them might listen,
But you’ll forget to tell yourself.
Let me explain.

You’re fourteen.
You’re alright,
But let me tell you,
It’s going to get worse.
Just for a while.
This isn’t a morbid warning,
Just a spoiler. Sorry.

You’re going to spend the next few
Years keeping a girl alive.
That sounds dramatic, but it’s true,
She really will die without you;
Or, the voices in her head will
Kill her, and the voices in yours
Will want her to die,
Yet you’ll die without her.
You won’t be proud of it,
But it will keep you alive.
Just.

And, in truth, from time to time,
You’re going to want to give up,
You’re going to want to accept your fate
When the big screen reads “GAME OVER”.
Specifically, you’re going to try to reset the
Game three times.
You’re going to look for cheat codes,
But I’ll tell you now,
You won’t find any.

Some days, you just won’t have enough rope.

You’re going to have to grow up,
And really fucking quickly at that.

Later, there will be people you love,
And you’ll grow to hate them,
Not all of them,
They’ll tell you your life isn’t worth living,
And you’re going to believe them,
And you’re going to try to reset the game
All over again;
Scratch the skin of the disc,
Make it unplayable.
To fuck it up beyond recognition.

But you need to know:
You’re going to crack the game.
That level you think is going to
Drive you six feet under?
You’re going to beat it.
You won’t cheat either –
It’s going to run fucking close,
But you’ll survive.

I tell you now,
You’ll go back to it,
You’ll load the game again,
Pretty regularly too,
But you’ll be more prepared,
Better equipped every time you fight it.

Level 17: Depression.
The level’s a bastard,
But you… you need to look
For that ventilation shaft in the ceiling.

And I’m here to tell you now,
You’re going to fall in love
(that’s going to happen a lot)
And it’s not going to work out
Most of the time.

I must confess, this isn’t for you any more:
This is for me.

You and I are different people:
I hate you, and you are going to hate
Who you are now when you are me.
But we need the same thing;
Love will find you as fast as you seek it.

Love is going to frustrate you,
Anger you, and yes,
It’s going to hurt you,
Really fucking badly.
But it will happen,
And it’s worth waiting for.

You need to be ready for it,
As much as it isn’t ready for you.

Ready, set…

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About DickensianJack

Born in Wolverhampton in November '93, moved to Huddersfield in September 2012. Studying at the University of Huddersfield. In love with the town - simple as that. As for the blog itself, I've been doing bits and pieces of writing (with varying quality) for a few years. A friend suggested I start a blog to share my work. Most of the stuff on here is poems, but there's other work interspersed on the page. Feel free to leave any comments on my work. Twitter: @DickensianJack (Jack Dickens) Facebook: www.facebook.com/dickensianjack Cheers, enjoy.
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