The Voice of My Teenage Self

Aside from my inner child, I have my teenage self too. Unlike my inner child, my teenage self always just seem to be observing me from a distance; hovering at the edge of things, skeptical and raw.

It's likely that she felt powerless back then, but has since taken on the quiet role of a protector—watchful, wary, and always ready to defend my inner child from being hurt again. She’s skeptical not because she doesn’t care, but because she cares so fiercely that she can’t risk being caught off guard.

She is my witness—the one who holds all the years where I began questioning, resisting, dreaming of more but unsure of how to get there. She was always waiting to see if I'd acknowledge her pain too—not just the innocence of my child self, but the anger and confusion of adolescence.

As I spoke to my inner child, I could "see" my teenage self observing this exchange from the corner of the room, arms crossed but eyes softening. I Imagine her voice to sound observant, maybe guarded, but honest.

…Tch.

So you finally said it.

I’ve been watching you, y’know. Always have. Even when you thought I’d stopped caring. Even when you thought I was just sitting in the corner, sulking or brooding or being “emo.” That was me trying to figure out whether you’d actually keep your promise—or break it again.

I saw the way you kept choosing the wrong people. The way you knew they weren’t good for us, but gave them everything anyway. I hated it. Not because you were weak, but because I knew you were strong enough to walk away—but didn’t. And every time you came back crying or numb or hollow, I wanted to scream at you. But I didn’t. I just watched.

And the kid? She never stopped believing in you. That’s what pissed me off the most. She still looked at you with those big eyes, full of trust and hope, even when I was ready to give up.

But now… hearing you say all that—owning it, all of it—I can’t pretend I’m not affected.

That letter? It’s what we needed. Not flowers and rainbows. Just truth. Just real.

So… maybe I can finally put the sword down for a second. Not because I don’t think we’ll ever be hurt again, but because… maybe we won’t be hurt the same way again.

And that? That’s enough for now.

I’m still watching, though. Just so you know.