Letters From Lockdown 71: Imogen Brighty-Potts

Ah, here we are again friends, who could’ve guessed we would be here once more? (Most of us, let’s be honest)

These may not be so consistent but I think it is important people still have the chance to create in this time, or just to vent. So without further ado, I, Imy Brighty-Potts am writing my first letter of the month to…

Dear 18 year old me,

Put down the eyeliner for a second, this won’t take long, but I figure we should have a chat.

There is nothing I can say to you now to change how you are feeling and what you are doing. And I wouldn’t want to. Sure, you’re not feeling great, you’re coping with nights out, tequila rose and kisses with boys you aren’t sure you’ll ever speak to again.

You’re cutting ties, running fast and driving faster with the passenger seat occupied and loud bass pulsing through the glove box. So, why would you listen to a 22 year old know-it-all who is chubbier, with longer hair and baggier clothes?

You’d look down on her and think ‘God, what does she know?’ and I would probably agree with you, because what do I really know? What do any of us really know this year?

Who could’ve known that you would live at home for the longest time in three years, you would move home for the foreseeable future, you would graduate from your degree, start your masters, date a woman you love and live through a historical moment?

No one, not you, not I, could’ve known any of this would happen.

But, I’ll let you in on a secret…

You did know things were going to change just a little bit almost two years ago. I’d be worried if I told you that you’d try to stop it happening, but this isn’t real, this letter is simply an extension of my ego, so I will tell all.

You got run over and it was the best thing that could’ve happened to you. It made you write, it made you cry, it made you fight (literally, thanks Kate), it made you care, it made you come out, it made you apply for jobs and roles you thought were impossible.

It was the making of you.

So, have your time so far off the rails, be angry, scream, fight, cry and go home. But, maybe be a little safer. Maybe don’t kiss that man. Maybe don’t drink quite so much. Maybe don’t say those words in anger.

Your life is about to change forever. You’re about to lose someone you love so much, and about to leave your hometown to go to a uni you never thought of. So be a little kind to yourself and your body.

But, carry on being brave and loud. Never stop being brave and loud because that is the very fabric of who you are, crazy girl. With a pandemic, a car crash, love, new friends, lost friends, break ups and even a second Trump presidency on the way (?), keep living. Keep choosing you, but choose future you too.

And maybe be a little kinder to your parents. This is all new for them too.

Love always you silly mess,

Ims xxx

Categories: Letters from Lockdown, Series

Imy Brighty-Potts

I am the founder and editor of The Hysteria Collective, poetry writer, play lover and Philosophy and Politics graduate. Hobbies include wine, cheese and coffee. @imybrightypotts on Twitter. @imyiswriting on Instagram.

2 Comments

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s