Letter to the Old Me Arlo Merchant
Dear Priya, I wish I could go back and protect you. Many moons ago, I hated you. I hated that you couldn’t protect yourself. I hated how you were so naive. I hated your pure smiles. Now, it’s too late. I barely remember you, and I hate myself for forgetting you— every day. I know I shouldn’t, ‘cause it’s not my fault. It’s his. He is trying now— Trying to make amends. But in his eyes I am sick— I need to be “cured.” You never expected to live this long Yet in some ways, you did. I miss you, Arlo
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