Dear YWP,
From the bottom of my heart,
Thank you.
Again.
Just a heads up, this is something long. This is a long letter of a type that I do not normally write but I'm writing this because it's special, because it's over, because you healed me, because I made it--! But regardless of how long it is, I hope you read it because I truly mean every word.
Last time I wrote a letter to you, it was during a part of my life I wish I could forget. Everything was a struggle.
Last time I wrote a letter to you, it was to thank you for helping me to keep going.
Last time I wrote a letter to you, it was to to thank you for the love and support you've provided.
For reading my words,
and caring.
This is also to say thank you. It's also a letter.
But this one's different.
Because, YWP,
I'm finally
finally
done.
The past 3 1/2 years have been full of rips and tears, seams that weren't supposed to be in the fabric of my life.
Actually,
I take that back. They were all meant to be there, some of them are just rather unfortunate.
The past 3 1/2 years have been 5 treatments,
thousands of tears,
and more love from wonderful people (Mainly you guys) than I knew possible,
to get to this point and
I've made it.
I'm healed.
YWP,
I could try and put this experience into words that have already been spoken,
I could try and explain what's happened in sentences that have been used before, could try and write it into the sky. I could try and explain how you have helped me heal by telling you how writing with y'all makes me feel.
But I can't.
So let me try this way.
For me, speaking is really hard. I think and I see and I write words,
but they're painful for me to say. And so when I finally get words out, it's not what I want to say. It's a variation, a version, but not what I mean completely. That's part of why I write, why I started writing.
So I could get the truth, my truth, out. So I could get everything out.
And I'm a very chaotic person, everything's always everywhere, never in order, so are my words,
but that's how I thrive.
I write in colors, I live in hues and shades. Color is chaotic. Every word is a color, everything is a color. Color means the world to me, it's what keeps me going,
it saturates this world, bursting and blooming everywhere so we have something to smile at.
When I got sick, really really sick,
the colors dissapeared. Everything became black and white and
it was terrifying.
It made me feel like I was constantly falling, drifting away and the worst part
was that I knew I was still in the same spot, on a couch in the living room, head between my knees,
trying to breathe and look up and see my family as the people they were, their features and smiles--
instead of the big blurs and swirls of black and white I saw, eyes and mouths blurring together, this world spinning out of control.
And I thought to myself,
will I ever be okay again, will I ever get to watch my little sister smile, will everything always seem dead,
is this my life now? What's the point of trying, why should I get up every morning and keep going, there's no color anywhere, what is this place?!
I'd been told by so many people
oh, you have Lyme? I'm sorry. It sucks that you'll never get better.
And so I didn't think I would.
Because that's what Lyme disease is best known for. It's called an uncurable disease. It hurts you your whole life, just slowly kills you.
Because no one thought I'd get better.
Because so far I hadn't.
Because I hadn't been able to get rid of it for 9 years.
Because mother and doctor wanted to try and heal me all the way.
Because they were very unsure about if it would work.
And so I was scared. All the time. I didn't know if I would ever get better, if my family would heal because this disease hurt them too, if everything would ever be Normal again,
if the colors would come back.
As I treated, I got more and more worried. My family went into a really tight spot. I didn't think I could come back from this. I couldn't walk, couldn't eat, my head felt like it was splitting open, I didn't smile or really talk. COVID hit and I got really scared because I could actually die at age 13-14 because the Lyme made this possible when it mixed with this new virus.
And then a color returned. The night my family found out we were going to be okay, that we had a chance,
the air turned red. And I realized
I might be able to do this.
It turns out it took something really big and strong and good to bring a color back. And as the colors returned,
I got better.
And they were beautiful and vibrant and unexpected and the best part of my life when they came back.
Red appeared the night my family found out we were going to be okay.
Orange came when I realized I was halfway through treatment. The happiness I felt from this one didn't last as long because, like the color orange, I was still unsure. But I counted it anyways, found a reason for it to stay.
And Yellow...
Well, yellow was when I found you, YWP.
And you were warm and sunshiney and calming and refreshing and I couldn't think of anything that would help me more at that moment. You gave me a way to stand, to see straight, and
sometimes
even smile.
Green was kept by my friends, the people who held up the sky, held up me. They held onto it until I could handle it again, in all it's waves of glory and new and fresh--and told me they'd be there if I needed help controlling it because they "Sure as hell weren't letting it get away from me again and weren't going to take it away either."
Blue was returned when I met my boyfriend. Someone sweet and fun and who I could just talk to with ease. And he unknowingly gave me pieces of blueberry and sealight and pineapple(turquiose) in the form of words and moments and stars, until the sky was visible on a sunny day. Like it was before Lyme.
Purple flew back on an airplane with two of my closest friends, people who'd moved to a different country and who I hadn't seen in 2 years. Everything was neon the day I hugged them hellohiwelcomehomeimissedyouisthisrealdoyouknowhowmuchimissedyou
YWP, I had Lyme disease for almost 13 years.
Ha, that sentence made me cry.
I HAD Lyme for almost 13 years.
I don't have,
I had Lyme.
It's over, I made it!
I'm healed.
And I coudn't have gotten here without you. I'm not being dramatic. You provided me with a way to dream,
crawl inside my imagination,
and close out my real life.
You gave me a way to walk cobblestone streets lined with apple trees and clear canals
and eat fresh orange slices dipped in honey. And all around me, there were people.
There was you. Because even though I could visit these places by myself, it was amazing to have people there with me.
To be there watching silk dancers and drinking moonlight held by flower petals, surrounded by others...
it gave me a way to breathe.
So thankyouthankyouthankyou
for everything.
Thank you for being my yellow,
thank you for the love and support,
thank you for pushing me through,
thank you letting me be a part of such an amazing group of young revolutionaries,
thank you for everything.
This is not a goodbye. I'm still going to be here. Except, I'm going to be here and be healthy. I'm going to write and talk to y'all while I watch my sister's face light up and try to decide exactly what color my mother's eyes and watch my boyfriend's face turn slightly pink when I catch him watching me, and smile when one of my best friends turns 16--
because I can see now.
I'm healed.
I'm going to walk around this world and pass people and wonder how many of those people I've met before here on YWP, and if I should turn around and ask them because if it is so, because I can walk again--
I can finally thank them in person
like I've been wanting to do for 2 years.
I'm healed.
YWP, I mean it when I say you saved my life. Lyme hurts you mentally too, not just physically. That's what happened to me. I got really depressed, I stopped talking, I fell into a pit and didn't see any way out. Until you threw me a rope and told me to tie it around my waist and pulled me up into your sunshine. I can't express enough how much you've helped me.
If you're ever walking on Church Street in Burlington, or in some random place, and you see a tall teenage girl with a river of redpinkgoldautumnmaroonredredred hair, please go up and ask her if she writes on YWP.
Because chances are, she does.
Chances are, she writes letters that she doesn't normally write and posts them along with poems about dreamt up places.
Chances are,
it's Stargirl
and she'd like to meet you
Chances are, she's going to want to hug you
and thank you
face to face
for saving her life.
Always and Forever,
Love, Stargirl
From the bottom of my heart,
Thank you.
Again.
Just a heads up, this is something long. This is a long letter of a type that I do not normally write but I'm writing this because it's special, because it's over, because you healed me, because I made it--! But regardless of how long it is, I hope you read it because I truly mean every word.
Last time I wrote a letter to you, it was during a part of my life I wish I could forget. Everything was a struggle.
Last time I wrote a letter to you, it was to thank you for helping me to keep going.
Last time I wrote a letter to you, it was to to thank you for the love and support you've provided.
For reading my words,
and caring.
This is also to say thank you. It's also a letter.
But this one's different.
Because, YWP,
I'm finally
finally
done.
The past 3 1/2 years have been full of rips and tears, seams that weren't supposed to be in the fabric of my life.
Actually,
I take that back. They were all meant to be there, some of them are just rather unfortunate.
The past 3 1/2 years have been 5 treatments,
thousands of tears,
and more love from wonderful people (Mainly you guys) than I knew possible,
to get to this point and
I've made it.
I'm healed.
YWP,
I could try and put this experience into words that have already been spoken,
I could try and explain what's happened in sentences that have been used before, could try and write it into the sky. I could try and explain how you have helped me heal by telling you how writing with y'all makes me feel.
But I can't.
So let me try this way.
For me, speaking is really hard. I think and I see and I write words,
but they're painful for me to say. And so when I finally get words out, it's not what I want to say. It's a variation, a version, but not what I mean completely. That's part of why I write, why I started writing.
So I could get the truth, my truth, out. So I could get everything out.
And I'm a very chaotic person, everything's always everywhere, never in order, so are my words,
but that's how I thrive.
I write in colors, I live in hues and shades. Color is chaotic. Every word is a color, everything is a color. Color means the world to me, it's what keeps me going,
it saturates this world, bursting and blooming everywhere so we have something to smile at.
When I got sick, really really sick,
the colors dissapeared. Everything became black and white and
it was terrifying.
It made me feel like I was constantly falling, drifting away and the worst part
was that I knew I was still in the same spot, on a couch in the living room, head between my knees,
trying to breathe and look up and see my family as the people they were, their features and smiles--
instead of the big blurs and swirls of black and white I saw, eyes and mouths blurring together, this world spinning out of control.
And I thought to myself,
will I ever be okay again, will I ever get to watch my little sister smile, will everything always seem dead,
is this my life now? What's the point of trying, why should I get up every morning and keep going, there's no color anywhere, what is this place?!
I'd been told by so many people
oh, you have Lyme? I'm sorry. It sucks that you'll never get better.
And so I didn't think I would.
Because that's what Lyme disease is best known for. It's called an uncurable disease. It hurts you your whole life, just slowly kills you.
Because no one thought I'd get better.
Because so far I hadn't.
Because I hadn't been able to get rid of it for 9 years.
Because mother and doctor wanted to try and heal me all the way.
Because they were very unsure about if it would work.
And so I was scared. All the time. I didn't know if I would ever get better, if my family would heal because this disease hurt them too, if everything would ever be Normal again,
if the colors would come back.
As I treated, I got more and more worried. My family went into a really tight spot. I didn't think I could come back from this. I couldn't walk, couldn't eat, my head felt like it was splitting open, I didn't smile or really talk. COVID hit and I got really scared because I could actually die at age 13-14 because the Lyme made this possible when it mixed with this new virus.
And then a color returned. The night my family found out we were going to be okay, that we had a chance,
the air turned red. And I realized
I might be able to do this.
It turns out it took something really big and strong and good to bring a color back. And as the colors returned,
I got better.
And they were beautiful and vibrant and unexpected and the best part of my life when they came back.
Red appeared the night my family found out we were going to be okay.
Orange came when I realized I was halfway through treatment. The happiness I felt from this one didn't last as long because, like the color orange, I was still unsure. But I counted it anyways, found a reason for it to stay.
And Yellow...
Well, yellow was when I found you, YWP.
And you were warm and sunshiney and calming and refreshing and I couldn't think of anything that would help me more at that moment. You gave me a way to stand, to see straight, and
sometimes
even smile.
Green was kept by my friends, the people who held up the sky, held up me. They held onto it until I could handle it again, in all it's waves of glory and new and fresh--and told me they'd be there if I needed help controlling it because they "Sure as hell weren't letting it get away from me again and weren't going to take it away either."
Blue was returned when I met my boyfriend. Someone sweet and fun and who I could just talk to with ease. And he unknowingly gave me pieces of blueberry and sealight and pineapple(turquiose) in the form of words and moments and stars, until the sky was visible on a sunny day. Like it was before Lyme.
Purple flew back on an airplane with two of my closest friends, people who'd moved to a different country and who I hadn't seen in 2 years. Everything was neon the day I hugged them hellohiwelcomehomeimissedyouisthisrealdoyouknowhowmuchimissedyou
YWP, I had Lyme disease for almost 13 years.
Ha, that sentence made me cry.
I HAD Lyme for almost 13 years.
I don't have,
I had Lyme.
It's over, I made it!
I'm healed.
And I coudn't have gotten here without you. I'm not being dramatic. You provided me with a way to dream,
crawl inside my imagination,
and close out my real life.
You gave me a way to walk cobblestone streets lined with apple trees and clear canals
and eat fresh orange slices dipped in honey. And all around me, there were people.
There was you. Because even though I could visit these places by myself, it was amazing to have people there with me.
To be there watching silk dancers and drinking moonlight held by flower petals, surrounded by others...
it gave me a way to breathe.
So thankyouthankyouthankyou
for everything.
Thank you for being my yellow,
thank you for the love and support,
thank you for pushing me through,
thank you letting me be a part of such an amazing group of young revolutionaries,
thank you for everything.
This is not a goodbye. I'm still going to be here. Except, I'm going to be here and be healthy. I'm going to write and talk to y'all while I watch my sister's face light up and try to decide exactly what color my mother's eyes and watch my boyfriend's face turn slightly pink when I catch him watching me, and smile when one of my best friends turns 16--
because I can see now.
I'm healed.
I'm going to walk around this world and pass people and wonder how many of those people I've met before here on YWP, and if I should turn around and ask them because if it is so, because I can walk again--
I can finally thank them in person
like I've been wanting to do for 2 years.
I'm healed.
YWP, I mean it when I say you saved my life. Lyme hurts you mentally too, not just physically. That's what happened to me. I got really depressed, I stopped talking, I fell into a pit and didn't see any way out. Until you threw me a rope and told me to tie it around my waist and pulled me up into your sunshine. I can't express enough how much you've helped me.
If you're ever walking on Church Street in Burlington, or in some random place, and you see a tall teenage girl with a river of redpinkgoldautumnmaroonredredred hair, please go up and ask her if she writes on YWP.
Because chances are, she does.
Chances are, she writes letters that she doesn't normally write and posts them along with poems about dreamt up places.
Chances are,
it's Stargirl
and she'd like to meet you
Chances are, she's going to want to hug you
and thank you
face to face
for saving her life.
Always and Forever,
Love, Stargirl
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