Photo by Jana Marquez
This is a collection of love letters from past versions of me at different places in my life, hoping that the version of me who reads them back one day would be a better one.
I write to myself hoping to get to know the person behind the words, to remind her that there is a haven in her word vomits, and that tangible sense can arise from it all, even amidst the scribble and mess and disarray at the moment.
I’ve written to myself while confused, angry, hopeful, and curious. I’ve written to seek out the me that would piece the words together and understand what I was feeling in that moment, even if it is months or years later.
I’ve written away from home, yearning for familiarity and comfort, and in stagnancy, yearning for change.
I end my entries with “Love, Jana” – knowing that as I depart from these versions of me and revisit with fresh eyes, it has always been me on the page, and it will be me welcoming her back each time.
To remind the current me that if these past versions found hope and peace once, I can find it once again, no matter where I am.