[Intro — Spoken / Distant] I don’t know if this letter will ever find you. Or if you’ll even listen to you. But I just need you to know— I remember. ⸻ [Chorus — Melodic / Reflective] Oh, if I could write a letter, what a letter it would be. Not to sway you to seek better, but a letter to me. Not to change the road you’re takin’, not to tell you what to see. Just to tell you I remember every version of me. ⸻ [Verse 1 — Younger / Reflective] I know you think you got yourself together after Stacie and you finally fell through. I know you loved her. But I know you’ll get over her too. First real taste of lovin’ and bein’ loved. First real taste and you’ll understand it’s fuck or be fucked. Then you’ll find Lynn and her daughter. I know you’ll try. ’Cause you wanna fill the role like no other instead of just rot and die. You’ll have moments in that shit show where you wish you were dead. Ha… But you’ll love that little girl though. And convince yourself it’s all inside ya head. I ain’t gonna tell you it ain’t worth the pain. I ain’t gonna tell you it won’t leave a stain. Some scars don’t disappear. You just learn to carry the weight. ⸻ [Chorus] Oh, if I could write a letter, what a letter it would be. Not to sway you to seek better, but a letter to me. Not to change the road you’re takin’, not to tell you what to see. Just to tell you I remember every version of me. ⸻ [Verse 2 — More Narrative] I won’t tell you her name. ’Cause by this time, I know you won’t listen all the same. And if you are— well… I’d rather you didn’t. But honestly, even with the pain, the love you and her share will be worth what it brings. You’ll think it’s over. You’ll think you found better. Think maybe this one will finally be your shoulder. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll convince yourself she won’t make you regret her. You’ll build a home outta pieces you found. Put your name on the walls and your feet on the ground. You’ll think you finally figured out what a family means. Think all those broken years were just makin’ you ready. You’ll work. You’ll grind. You’ll sacrifice time. Tell yourself if they’re happy, then everything’s fine. You’ll measure your worth by the weight you can carry. Never stop to ask if you’re strong or just scared to let anybody carry you. And somewhere along the way, you’ll confuse surviving with living. Keep givin’ pieces of yourself like you got more worth to give ’em. ⸻ [Bridge — Stripped / Older Voice] I ain’t gonna tell you who stays. I ain’t gonna tell you who leaves. I ain’t gonna tell you what love looks like when it gets down on its knees. I ain’t gonna tell you which promises break. I ain’t gonna tell you which ones you’ll keep. Because if I gave you every answer— you wouldn’t become me. ⸻ [Verse 3 — Darker] You’ll lose things you thought you’d never lose. People. Time. Parts of you. Yeah, your happiness too. You’ll make mistakes you swear you’d never make. Then make ’em again with a different face. You’ll learn love ain’t always gentle. Sometimes it comes with a debt. Sometimes the person you’d die for is the person you can’t save yet. You’ll have children. You’ll have a house. You’ll have nights where you swear you finally made it. Then you’ll have mornings where you wonder how the hell you became this. And I wish I could tell you that the ending gets clean. But life don’t work like that. You don’t get a neat little chapter just because you finally understand what the previous one means. So keep your heart. Even when it hurts. Keep your hands open. Even when you’re scared of what they’ll put in ’em. Just don’t mistake being needed for being loved. And don’t mistake being loved for being seen. ⸻ [Final Chorus — Building] Oh, if I could write a letter, what a letter it would be. Not to sway you to seek better, but a letter to me. Not to change the road you’re takin’, not to tell you what to see. Just to tell you I remember every version of me. Oh, if I could write a letter, I’d tell you one thing— You ain’t gotta become everything you thought you had to be. ⸻ [Outro — Spoken / Fading] I don’t know if this letter ever found you. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to. Maybe I wasn’t writing to the boy I used to be. Maybe I was writing to the man he became. Just so he knew— I remember.
