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A Letter to My Younger Self

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Hey, kid.

I know what’s going through your head right now. You’re worried, nervous, scared out of your wits. You feel like the world is crumbling around you, and the already tiny platform you’re kneeling on is becoming even smaller. You’re terrified, and I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s going to get worse. Your already blackened world is going to get a little blacker, a little wider, and a little heavier before you finally dig your way back to the light. You need to keep your head up though, because if you don’t how are you supposed to see the light?

I know it hurts, I know. I was in your shoes before, you know. I remember every thought that floated around in your head, every person that dragged you down and added even more weight to your life. I remember every person who convinced you that you were nothing more than dirt. It sticks with you, but I promise it makes you stronger. You don’t realize it now, but all those friends you have are going to leave. They’re going to leave you all alone, and hopeless, when you need it most, but that just shows you who your true friends are, the ones who will hang around no matter what.

You’re going to fall in love, and you’re going to convince yourself that he’s perfect for you no matter what everyone else tells you, no matter what he says to you, and no matter what he does to you. You’re going to let him hang around after heartbreak and try over and over to worm his way back into your life and succeed. Just, promise me, that when he comes crawling back for the first time, kick dirt in his face and show him that you are perfect without him. It’s going to haunt you, and he’s going to be the cause of your anxiety, which follows you for even longer. He leaves you broken, but from this you will learn that you care too much about people who don’t care about you, and you learn how to care about yourself more then anyone else.

In 6th grade you’re going to start to write, and from there you’ll learn about the true extent of your creativity. You will write, and write, and write, and make the world around you a masterpiece. You’ll want to transform the universe into one giant work of art, one beautiful novel. You’ll want the galaxies to spill from the pages of your notebooks, and the stars to shine their light through all the blank cracks in your paintings. You’ll gravitate towards the arts very quickly, falling head over heels for it. Music, cooking, writing, and art will become your life. You immerse yourself in it, and mom and dad will try and pull you out of it with words about how ‘it’ll never sustain you in the real world’, and ‘you’re never going anywhere with this, Elizabeth.’ Don’t listen to them. You have talent, and passion for this stuff. This is where your heart belongs, and this is where you’re destined to end up.

In 8th grade you’ll become obsessed with houses, but not real estate. You plan for hours, drawing and thinking about where you want to be when you’re older. You want a townhouse in Brooklyn, down near the water. You want to drive a motorcycle, and ride a bike straight out of the 50’s to work every day. You don’t know what you want to be, exactly. Maybe a nurse, or an artist, or a musician, or a cook. You want to waitress in a vintage diner when you first get there, and you want your house to look like something straight off of tumblr. You’re going to want hanging plants, a loft bed, and enough fairy lights to power a small town. You want to go places that give your soul peace, places that make you happy. Keep all of these ideas, and hold them close. You remember about this idea, and you keep it with you. I want you to live out that dream the best you can.

You’re little, when you’ll be reading this. You’re most likely still only 4’9” and you hate it, you think that you’re the shortest person to ever be seen compared to everyone else in your grade. People make fun of you, call you ‘baby,’ and ‘squirt.’ You repeatedly stomp on shoes, and kick shins, and punch guts. Keep that fight with you, keep that fire blazing. All it may do now is hurt people and get you into trouble, but that fire develops into passion the older you get, and you learn how to channel it into your work. You learn how to deal with it, and that fire is what draws people to you.

In 9th grade you are going to fall into a slump. You’re going to start fighting with your friends, and you will know no one in any of your classes. You anxiety will restrict you from making friends, and you will think your life is over. Your creativity will draw to a slow trickle, and your grades will slip because of it. Don’t give up hope, no matter how badly you want to. Your second semester, you’re going to enter a Creative Writing class filled with people you don’t know. This was one of your electives, something you were excited for in the beginning of the year. You feel dead, just dragging your feet through this course. Your creativity is gone, and you are friendless, and you lost the desire to do well. Then you meet a girl,  and she becomes one of your closest friends. She’s like you, creative and spunky and isn’t afraid to speak her mind. You sit next to her, and you two instantly bond. She’s the girl that opens your world back up to the light. Suddenly, all your creativity returns in a rush, and soon you have made friends with almost everyone in the class, and when the course draws to a close you won’t want it to end. A senior girl has adopted you as her little sister, and your best friend stays with you through everything.

Don’t worry, life will get better no matter how much you doubt it. You’re going to be able to smile again, it’s not over. Just stay positive, bean. You got this.

   Keep your head screwed on right,

     Me






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