I wish I would've told you

That I only went along with it

Because I didn't set standards back then

For whom I'd call a friend

I wish I would've told you

That I was too weak to intervene

That now, I would've put an end

To their torturous regime

I wish I would've told you

That it shattered my soul

To see the people I knew

Hurt someone I didn't

I wish I would've told you

That things will get better

That one day they'll grow up

That one day they'll feel guilt

I wish I would've told you

That I'll stand up to them, for you

But all I told you was

"It's just a prank"

And now I can't tell you anything.

Picture it. It’s 2007, and a miniature Eli had just won a chocolate bar in a raffle at school. As far as I was concerned, I had just won the lottery. I was on top of the world, and I had big plans for the chocolate bar. I was going to save it for a day so special that the only way it could improve would by be eating chocolate. That chocolate bar was going to make the perfect day.

I waddled over to the fridge (“waddled” is important here. I’m short now, so I must’ve been about 3’5” back then. Each leg was probably about the size of a loaf of bread) and put my chocolate bar in the back of the first shelf, behind the most obscure bottle of mystery sauce I could see. I had labeled it, too—I had four siblings back then (don’t worry, I didn’t lose any since. But now I have six) and I knew they would have no qualms about eating a chocolate bar that just magically appeared in the fridge.

Cue three weeks later. It was a Sunday afternoon. Sunday was a great day back then because I didn’t feel as though I wasted away my weekend as the looming face of Monday drew closer. Sweet, sweet times. Anyways, I had just found a quarter on the street, doubling the net worth of my assets. My dad was making a barbecue for dinner, and I just knew my day had come.

For those faint of heart, I would advise you stop reading here. This story is about to get very sad, and I wouldn’t want your day being ruined like mine was on that fateful day so many years ago. But if you think you can handle what’s coming, continue reading.

I waddled over to the fridge. I stuck my grubby little hands in the back of the first shelf, feeling around for the mystery sauce. There! Found it. I moved it out of the way and much to my chagrin, the chocolate bar was gone. I was devastated.

I ran to my older brother, mumbling incoherently about my terrible loss. Between heaving sobs and snot bubbles, I managed to get out the story of my beloved missing chocolate bar. And that’s when I saw the Cheshire grin spreading across my brother’s face. The horrible realization dawned on me.

I was angry. I was livid. You’ve never seen so much rage compressed into such a small person. I had to find the perfect way to express how I was feeling, and I finally found the inappropriate words to hurl at my brother. With balled fists, a reddened face and all the hatred I could muster, I yelled,

“What in the world?!”

Because truth be told, that was the most profane sentence I could have ever crafted at the tender age of 7. I haven't improved much since, but at least I learned how to better hide my chocolate.

She used to roam the streets

Like a floating paper bag

If paper bags had a

Pink streak in their hair

She used to steal candy from

Her friend’s dad’s grocery store

They weren’t really friends and

She didn’t even like candy

She used to drive her beat up Chevy

That was actually her brother’s beat up Chevy

She would’ve had her own beat up Chevy

If she were old enough to drive

She used to wear mismatched socks

Pretending it was fashion

She didn’t know anything about fashion, plus

She was always losing socks.

I could tell you about a million beautiful sights to see. I can tell you about a million mouth-watering foods to try. I can tell you about a million writers who could craft a beautiful essay to highlight the elegance of our world. I could tell you a million things, but the answer to your question doesn’t lie in a million things. It lies in one thing, and that one thing is you.

It’s no coincidence that I happened across this prompt today. I hope not to win because that would mean someone else won. That someone else, by no coincidence, happened across this prompt today. I hope that thousands of people don’t win.

Remember, dear Asterisk, that every person who submits their own attempt to give you direction is the direction. They’re people that likely never met you, people that likely endured their own feelings of doubt and being lost, who took the time to make sure that you know that your life is worth living. That your life will be great.

In three weeks, I implore you to look at the number of submissions. Each and every submission is a person giving you a hug, telling you that it will be alright. Because everything will be alright. Look at the room around you, and picture it filled with every person who wrote an essay just for you. We’re all your support team. We care about you.

I’ll give you a few ideas to shine a ray of hope in your amazing existence. First, imagine someone else posted this. It’s your turn to write an encouraging essay or poem. They matter infinitely, and you need to tell them that because you’ve felt exactly what they’re feeling. You’re in a position of empathy. It would be wrong not to help them. So write to them.

Have you ever planted a garden? If not, please do. Fill your room with so much greenery that you can’t even remember what color the walls are. Make people who pass your residence stop and stare at the beautiful plants that you grew. Talk to the plants. They’re good listeners.

Every day, look in the mirror for five minutes and think about what you’re grateful for. It’ll be hard at first. It’ll probably feel stupid. But keep doing it, and you’ll get better at finding what to appreciate. Soon enough, you’ll look into your eyes and feel the warmth and happiness of a person lucky enough to live your life.

By the way, I read everything on your page. You’re cosmically talented. Please continue to use your literary gift every day.

You have so many smiles and laughs ahead of you. I believe in you, Asterisk. I just need you to believe in yourself. Can you do that for me?