Letter to 17-Year-Old Trinity

 

 

Before I was Trinity, of course. 

Damn, that arm looks hairy. 

Ah, look at you. So young, so full of hope. And naiveté. So much naiveté. Naiveté above all.

By this time you’d have had an official diagnosis of bipolar disorder for about a year now. But right now that doesn’t seem very important at all. You’re a freshman at a new university, and tonight you’re about to meet a woman that you’ll think is the love of your life. You’ll be, probably, the biggest mistake she’ll ever make. It will last half a year and cost you some part of your mind, and nearly her job.

For the first few weeks that you’ll know each other, your feet will run to her wherever you’re about to meet. You’d fly if you could.

In that time you’ll turn 18 and you both can stop fearing the law regarding your relationship. But by then it’ll be too late for both of you.

You’ll become so tired all the time that you’ll fall asleep while watching Les Miserables, and wake up only to the standing ovation. You’ll drift off during math class, prompting your professor to yell at you, and eventually to fail you. You’ll doze inside the hotel during vacations while everyone frolics on the beach outside. You’ll lose months in this haze.

You’ve never been very clear about why you left your first university. “Did she jump or was she pushed?” was one thing you said about it. Even now you’re not so sure. But you will leave. That will be your decision.

Three years later, you’ll regret it.

In that time you’ll have more girlfriends than you can count on one hand. None of them lasted very long with you. Time hasn’t brought the oblivion it promised – only a sort of numbing, a layer over something that’ll always be tender when pressed.

Eventually, you’ll find someone who won’t give up on you. And you’ll finally be stable enough to appreciate something like that when you have it. Amidst all the disappointment, the hearts you’ve broken along the way, and the number of times you’ve had your own heart broken, you’ll find a little patch of peace and contentment to call your own.

And the hope for this, will be enough to see you through the years in between.

Hold on, buddy. You have a long way to go.