I'm sorry to the the old Shelby who sanded down all her sharp edges to be more palatable. The Shelby who only knew how to identify as shy, sweet, and submissive. Whose words always got drowned out by a chatter of misplaced intentions and suppression. Whose best parts were hidden under "Why don't you have anything to say?" And "You never talk, you're so quiet." Because it was easier to be silent than it was to speak out and make a scene about disagreeing. I'm sorry that I didn't know how to pull you up. I'm sorry that I actually let you believe you had to be the "Yeah, you treated me like trash and ignored me for months of my life, but don't worry honey I endlessly support you" girl. I'm sorry you had rational emotions, let them show, and then I made you apologize for them. I'm sorry for all the late night apology messages you tried to send to people who left. I'm sorry that I bent your arm backwards until you felt ashamed about anything that made you untraditional. I'm sorry that I made you afraid of losing the cool, supportive female friend image, that you took being degraded more than you took being appreciated. And I'm sorry I had love, acceptance, and body positivity for everyone but you. But I'm not sorry for finally drawing a gun to you. I'm not sorry for burying the girl who didn't know any better and paid for it, because I wouldn't have what I have now RIP to what you were, but forever hopeful for what I've become ❤
To all the letters written to your former self: it's important.