A hug to my younger self

The other day I have been looking through my old diaries from the early 1990s, which my Mum rescued and brought to me. I was looking for the entries related to meeting my husband-to-be. What I found, somehow has shaken and startled me, as I came across some earlier writings, which brought back some painful memories.
This was before I met my future husband and related to someone my heart was aching for.
In these twenty-odd years a lot has happened: my romance, marriage, move to the States and back, birth of my sons, death of my Dad, depression, joys and tragedies... in one word, life happened.
Reading my old dairy almost dismayed me, I forgot how passionate I used to be.

"My love to you is the focus of all my life, you're the flame which burns from inside, which melts the lead, and at the same time (it) is the divine light which gives life. You are two elements: life and death, heavenly purity and the abyss. I either fly high into the air, soaring above the human accumulation of the everyday banality, or fall into the abyss, dropping all the way down, and there is nothing to hold onto, and this fall is eternal. And  as cruel as your silence.
But I accept it as a fact. Even earlier you disappeared for long periods of time, but before I took it easier, while now I worship you and accept your cruelty as the manifestation of the superior will. Through humiliation and broken pride, everyday slaps of the empty post box, to the grander purity of feelings and inner burning. Or is it not so?"

Reading that, I feel like screaming: no, it isn't, what are you talking about, girl?! No man is worth worshiping. The reference to the "superior will" makes my hackles rise in indignation.


Little did I know then that a boy I was so much pining about, wasn't the one for me. He was a drifter then, he needed a strong steady mature woman with her feet firmly on the ground to keep him and turn him into a family man. I wasn't that woman. I was a jittery creature, highly strung, too sensitive and naive. As a friend of my parents used to call me, "a girl (made) of porcelain" because he could sense my vulnerability. I am now almost as old as my Mum at that time. Hopefully wiser and more sensible with age.
Reading those lines makes my heart go to her, that tormented girl. I wish I could give her a hug and tell her: You just wait! Very soon you will meet your husband-to-be. Your world will change. You will never forget your old flame, but your feelings will first lose their edge, then change into an understanding, later become a distant memory, something you will cherish but will be able to smile about.

 When you look back, do you wish you could give a hug to your younger self?

I am still not sure whether I should have written this very personal post, but for the time being it is here.
Being very nosey curious, I would love to know if sometimes you'd like to give a hug to your younger self? Tagging my friends Cheryl, Leta, Jo, Sarah, Alison, Jaime and Sonya.