Dear little Laura,
You know yourself better than you think you do.
You believe in stories of romance because you believe in people. In their kindness, their potential. You believe in being enough. You believe in saying how you feel - not because it sounds like something from a novel, but because it’s real. You feel everything all at once, because your heart is wide open. And you don’t want to close it.
That - that - is beautiful.
But there will be moments when you want to. When you’ll try to fold yourself inwards, tuck your body away from the world because it feels like all anyone does is tell you it’s wrong. That you’re wrong. That your thighs are too soft, your bones too hidden, your boobs not perky enough. That this disqualifies you from being adored. They will fall in love with others - the ones who embody the ideal - and it will feel personal, like they’re doing it to spite you.
The world will try to convince you that to be a successful woman is to be a muse - to be wanted, admired, written about. And if no one picks you, you must not be perfect enough. You’ll start to flinch at romantic gestures - they’ll feel suspicious, performative. Like someone’s read your diary and is using it against you. You’ll start to think that sex is just a transaction, and love is just a trick. You’ll break hearts. You’ll let yours harden. Sex will become something you do to feel powerful, even when it leaves you feeling lonely. You’ll start to believe that softness is dangerous. That being open, romantic, tender - are not the things women should be if they want to survive.
And that will hurt. Because it’s not what you imagined.
But -
It’s okay to be loud about your sexuality. Loud about your thighs and your hip dips and the little creases under your arms. Your body is beautiful. It’s soft and strong and deeply yours. It has kept you safe, even when others didn’t. Your curves have held you through things. They belong to you.
And I know it won’t always feel like that. There will be times when it feels like your body has been taken from you - touched without love, critiqued without kindness. But I promise you: it is still yours. You can still celebrate it. Even if no one else does. Even if no one seems to see what you know is inside you.
When you feel like no one will ever get you - really, wholly understand you - just remember: to be seen, you have to be open. And to be open means showing up as you are. Even in the moments when you’re still figuring out who that is.
It’s okay to kiss a girl because you want to.
It’s okay to cry in the Uber after sex that felt like a performance.
It’s okay to write a poem about someone who doesn’t even know your name.
I promise you this: the moment you start living in your truth, love will find you.
Not just romantic love - although that will come too, in its own messy, electric, miraculous way. But the love of friends who cherish your weirdness. The kind of family love that heals old wounds. The kind of self-love that doesn’t require mirrors or compliments - the kind that lives in your bones.
And one day, there will be so much love in your life, you won’t know where to put it all. It will spill out of you. It will bring you to tears. It will reconnect your body to your soul.
And you’ll realise:
to be loved, you have to love yourself first.
Yes, it’s a cliché.
But one day - you’ll feel it.
And it will change everything.
With all the love you’ve ever needed,
Your future self.
