Wilder Mind

“In the place that’s safe from harm, I had been blessed with a wilder mind” – Mumford and Sons

Dear Younger Heart, I remember you well.

I’m reluctant to write this letter because in it I will come to terms with losing you, and no strength of poet nor rhythm of song will bring you home.

I write stories about you. I’m jealous of the way you hug my friends. The sanctuary you provide them, the enchantment they wear around.

I’m sorry I mistreated you. The baggage I carried left bags under your eyes. You grew sick and tired. Young heart, I tried to save you for later, but you were dying softly. I figured I would let you go.

You see, I’m beaten and bloodied by my consciousness. I keep slipping in and out of difficult thoughts, and then thoughts of those thoughts, in these perpetual fights. I’m told to lift the veils of illusion. Resign myself to science, and to hold onto what’s real, to what’s tangible. But what’s real Young Heart? How will I know?




I’ve always been afraid of you. You somehow maintained a respect for, and worship of, all things deeply human. I let pride and the appeal of power keep me a safe distance from these things. I hit the road and dressed myself in clothes that signal strength. I know it’s because I’m hurt and heavy in desperation, and I did it because I preferred to stay light. You know I’m so wrapped up in a brighter future regardless of how translucent it may be.

My history is stained by the carelessness of my clumsiness and people in a rush. Why is it that you never speak of their flaws? My mistakes? Aren’t you tired of always making amends?




They told me that the door to freedom was narrow enough for only one and I couldn’t bring you with me. Yet still, fall comes back around and I miss you. Young heart, before I left I thought that being independent meant being alone. I know now that I lost myself the moment I let you go and I am so sorry. You can only notice these things afterwards.

I used to watch you and smile, laugh even. Beauty in it’s essence and not in its likeness. But now you’re gone.

Please stay with my mother.


by @sledain // featuring photography from Stefania Dulgheru


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