Shining in the New World
Greetings to you, reader, you who are reading this with the intention, perhaps, of becoming my friend. After writing a letter to my former self—a version of me that was bright but nonetheless naive—now it’s you I’m addressing. I imagine that if you’re here, it’s because you wish, in one way or another, to accompany me on the path of redemption that I’ve chosen to offer to the tormented existence of the boy I once was.
To be honest, this letter is meant only for those who, even in a small but sincere way, want to support me in this process. It’s not for those who are reading out of mere curiosity or to fuel gossip. If you find yourself in the former group, then you’re welcome here.
The tone of this writing is lighter than that of my previous letter, as this is not a farewell, but a beginning. We can therefore do without the gravity that marked my past writings or even those somewhat dark letters I used to write, where I juggled between expressing my suffering and wanting to demonstrate my ability to articulate it. Here, there’s no need for excessive sophistication—plain language will do just fine.
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As I continue my letter to young Wilou, I should clarify that I did not mention what truly tormented me all these years. That wasn’t the focus. I’ve spoken enough about those pains in my old depressive writings. Here, I simply want to clarify the vision of the more capable, more organized, and more clear-headed person I am preparing to become.
In my younger years—and let’s be clear, I’m still young—I developed many qualities: sociability, communication, sports, arts, appearance, cooking, and more. But the most precious of them all was, undoubtedly… intelligence. I’ve always known this; it’s been my greatest asset, even more so than my athletic abilities. And throughout my youth, thanks to my family, teachers, various encounters, and my own curiosity, I’ve continually sought to refine this cognitive and intellectual capacity.
It’s a fact: Wilou was a bright boy, but he was also too sensitive. My big heart has always been my weakness. Because I was fundamentally kind and likable, I was never truly on guard. My heart was hurt time and time again, a vulnerability I was increasingly aware of, but one I didn’t want to suppress with time, out of a desire for authenticity. I wanted people to say, “Wilou, he’s like that… he’s genuine.”
And, truth be told, people know that I’m kind, and notified me about this not always as a compliment : “You a kind one, it shows,” Orlane once said to me. “You’re too authentic,” said Chainez. “I’m sure you’re a kind guy with a good heart,” remarked another girl, after a simple signe dance together.
It’s as if my kindness shows beyond my jovial nature, as if I’m visibly a good guy. BIG MISTAKE. I was much more naive and gullible than I was clear-sighted and alert. Naivety sometimes presents itself to us under the guise of kindness and goodness, and it is often through painful experiences that we learn, through disappointments, what a lack of vigilance really means.
Being kind in an environment where the “bad boy,” the “player,” or the alpha male is often glorified starts to be seen as a weakness. It’s as if kindness became a quality ill-suited to the setting. The most ironic part was being turned down by a girl on the pretext that she “respected me too much” to consider anything with me. It sounds almost absurd: being rejected not because I didn’t appeal to her, but because I was too respectable. Of course, it's not only about love stories, but this one must be the most relevant to illustrate how people don't consider me enough specifically because of this assumed quality.
I won’t dwell on this too much either, as this could easily turn into an entire discussion on its own. With all I have to say on the subject, I could spend hours exploring it. That’s not really the point here, but it’s an angle I might explore one day.
Today, my focus is on this new version of myself. I want to be someone who surrounds himself with kind people in whom I have real trust. Of course, I know that sometimes masks fall or people change. What feels like a sincere friendship one day can turn into a source of pain the next. That’s the nature of human relationships.
But despite those risks, I trust myself and my ability to discern the good from the bad. I know how to attract people around me, but the real key is learning to select them better over time. With these sincere friends, I want to be able to talk about what weighs on me, what makes me sad or worried, instead of letting my concerns eat me up inside. In the past, I often suffered in silence, to the point where I sometimes crumbled under the weight of it all.
I believe that the confidence I cultivated in my youth also sometimes kept me from asking for help. It was a matter of pride. In my somewhat awkward but understandable logic, I felt like asking for help would undermine all the qualities, all the foundations I had built for myself. Needless to say, with these same friends, I intend to create many memories and strong bonds; after all, it remains my hallmark to ensure those around me have a good time.
In this new world, I also want to focus more seriously on a few objectives that truly matter to me: surpassing my father intellectually and opening my café one day.
It is for the first reason that I’ve decided to stop practicing sports intensively. Coming to Portugal, I initially planned to resume track and field, a sport I started to emulate my big sister, whom I’ve always admired. But now that I’ve realized this childhood dream, albeit briefly, I find, with some bitterness, that deep down, surpassing my first teacher, my greatest rival, and outshining the hero that my father represents is more important to me than winning an Olympic medal. I will always love sports, and I will always be an athlete at heart. I’m simply choosing to invest in what may be the defining challenge of my life.
As for the café, that ambition almost fell into my lap: I started working for my brother’s bosses in a different coffee shop from his. I spent several months learning the basics of the trade before he became my manager. With my first manager and then under his leadership, I discovered the craft and made friends. I had a great time, and in that grueling period of studies that tormented my mind, the café where I worked brought me comfort. During a time when I was often depressed, this new job, and the joy I found in it, became my solace. EVEN IF SOMETIMES YAYA EXPLOITED ME! It’s from then on that the idea and ambition to open my own place began to take root in my mind.
This also explains why I left for abroad: driven by the need for fresh air after all these youthful torments and a desire to expand my knowledge of the world and its cultures, I decided to take the leap. To embark on a journey that would introduce me to new people, new cultures, and inspire the café I hope to open one day—a place that will tell my story. The story of a little guy who wants to give his time to help others enjoy theirs.
From now on, I think I’ll just focus on living a normal life, trying to live like a young person my age and as peacefully as possible. After years of dreaming big, I ended up hurting myself because I was clumsy in handling such ambitions without clearer structure in my mind, and that discipline was too often weakened by my moods, despite a certain potential that everyone recognized. The more time passes, the more I simply want to be a normal person. Just a regular guy. In fact, it’s in reference to those children’s books that I feel more like everyone else: I’d like to be “the man who serves coffee,” as explained so simply in such books.
We have childhood dreams that come and go, goals we think we want to reach, only to realize what truly matters to us, and other ambitions that, over time, overshadow our original aspirations and fleeting fantasies. I believe that fulfilling what I’ve come to find truly important in my eyes, for my own pleasure and that of my trusted companions and silent protagonists, would ultimately be my most beautiful way of shining.
I’m happy to finally feel a bit more at peace and ready to start this new chapter of my life. Little Wilou, my last words are for you. You’ve given so much, and everything you’ve lived and accomplished has given me the tools to face this world with a new perspective, a certain clarity. On this day, the first one of the rest of my life, I thank you for all these years that have forged me, and I promise to honor your efforts, perpetuate the glory of your successes, and give meaning to your pains—sufferings and tears that were oh-so-painful but that, in the end, allowed me to exist. I swear I will one day earn the redemption that our existence and your worth deserve, so that your authentic young soul can rest in peace.
Thank you again, thank you for everything. And remember, no matter what happens, I will always love you.
Wilou
