Letter to Myself: Ghost-Written

Because sometimes my current self is too foggy to remember the fire.

Right now, in my life, I don’t feel powerful.
I feel… a bit defeated.
Like I’m not where I thought I’d be. Like I’m moving through fog with heavy legs.
But something happens when I write.

When I write, I’m free.
When I write, I’m sharp.
When I read what I wrote years ago — in another chapter of my life, in another version of myself — it’s like flipping a switch. I light up. I remember.
Oh. Right.
This is who I am.

There’s a voice that takes over — playful, but not shallow.
Smart, but not trying to prove anything.
It doesn’t ask for permission. It doesn’t wait to feel ready.
It just is. And it comes naturally.
Every time I write, it shows up like it never left.

I love that voice.

It’s my true self.
And this is where my value is.
This is the one thing I can say about myself without modesty.

When I write, I shine.
That’s it.

I don’t need to be modest about it. I don’t need to wrap it in disclaimers.
I don’t feel narcissistic for saying it, either.
I am honoring a too long repressed need for self-recognition.
It’s looking in the mirror and taking permission to appreciate myself.

(Even writing this is a big effort. Why are we so brainwashed to not appreciate ourselves?)

It’s the part that always brings me back to life — in Romanian, in English, in whatever voice shows up that day.

So quick reminder to myself to keep writing.

For my tired self.

For the moments when life is so far from what I want that I can hardly breathe.

My writing self is still me… but it feels like a version of me that’s wiser, clearer, more alive than the one currently present. Almost like a past self or higher self took over the keyboard while my tired self just sat and watched surprised.