If I could write a letter to my younger self,
there is so much I would say.
It would end up being a forest's worth of advise,
a break down of every single moment in my life,
trying to correct any wrongs,
make up missed opportunities,
or just giving myself a heads up to treasure that moment.
I'd console the sullen self in times of internal chaos,
and chide the fresh-faced hopeful for her naivety.
This letter, however, would remain incomplete and stowed away.
I would much rather my 14 year old self were blissfully ignorant of the future.
For her to act on her own sporadic, spontaneous judgment, as always.
Because I wouldn't be the same.
And though not completely satisfied,
I'm proud of the person I am.
Being forewarned,
My younger self wouldn't make it to where I am now.
It is my mistakes, and every raw emotion that has ever possessed or fleetingly scurried through this being that makes me who I am.
The uncertainty faced at every step makes the journey that much more worthwhile.
And the rest is still unwritten..
Once again, credit goes to Mademoiselle in Melbourne for topical inspiration.
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