Dear younger me,
I did it. I achieved your dream board only to realise that you are mine. I attained the academic accolades you dreamt of, the coveted positions you once yearned for, and I am now enrolled in the college that you held in such high regard. Yet, as I stand on the summit of these achievements, I find myself compelled to convey that I may not be the embodiment of your idealised self. I cannot help but wonder if you dreamt the wrong dream because I assure you, my dear, I am not who you want to be. I read somewhere that I went from being an academic weapon to an academic butter knife and I laughed. I laughed our hysterical laugh. The one where we sputter out ha-ha’s to securely lock our tear glands. The one where we laugh and cough our throats out so that we don’t cry our hearts out.
I know we are accustomed to being the supportive pillar. The one who is called when things fall apart, plans fall through, and people fall down. The one who has their life sorted. I know we are used to being the solution. I’m sorry to tell you but I don’t feel that way anymore. I’m sorry to report that lately, I have perhaps become the problem.
I still cherish our feats in school but now, only as a distant dream. Mellifluous reveries of a time beyond my reach. Now, smart isn’t smart enough, pretty isn’t pretty enough, and I am just simply not enough. Hence, as I blow my candles out this year and step into adulthood, I cannot help but think that I have already offered the best parts of me. So, when I sing happy birthday, a tear slips down my cheek. I look at you as the epitome and peak of all we’ll ever be. It’s exhilarating to recall what you wake up and do every day but at the same time, I cannot stop myself from accepting the daunting fact that maybe I will spend the rest of my life in an attempt to go back.
I try. Every day. Harder and harder still. It proves futile so I can only conclude that we are not as smart as we were told we are. Thus, I implore you to freeze time, even if momentarily, to soak in who you are. That’s the best of us. I suggest you stay where you are. I failed you. I have fallen short of the miracle that you are and the greatness you envisioned and for that, I will be eternally apologetic. However, right now, all I can tell you is that you’re on your own kiddo. I have no pearls of wisdom to offer anymore and perhaps, that’s for the best.
With profound regret,
The one who is sorry that she couldn’t be your teenage dream,
Your older self.
Dear older me,
Such eloquent words and yet, not even a scintilla of wisdom. Clearly, we have a problem where we grow older but just never wiser. Do not fret that you have run out of pearls to offer because I’ll let you in on a few free ones.
My first piece of advice to you is- calm down bro. I know you’re used to being the one pacifying the situation so maybe, all you need is reassurance that it is in fact, alright to stop and rest for a while (even if technically, you’re the calming source for yourself. Writing letters across the quantum of time is fun but the logistics are confusing). You’ve been someone for 18 years but got to know her only 2 years back and had only just found her when the phenomena that is time forced a goodbye. Naturally, you didn’t assume that you’d land on solid ground without even a slight wobble.
I cannot pretend to understand what exactly is troubling you but I’m here as your sounding board. As a constant reminder that you have lost earlier and perhaps, you’ll lose in bigger ways in the future, or maybe already are, but you’ve found your way back. Finding your way back does not necessarily mean returning to the same mark or the same place. You will never be there again. If you had paid more attention when they were teaching us space and time, you would know.
However, all jokes aside, why are you trying to be wise beyond your years and great for your age? The best things happened to us when we focused on the tasks at present and just gave it our all. I understand that this might be the first time where you find yourself in a situation wherein your efforts are not bearing fruit but hey, they always warned us adulting was hard. Just keep doing what you’re doing because I promise you, the faith we have in you back home is ten times stronger than the self-deprecating doubts you fill your head with.
One last thing before I leave you- start thinking about yourself. Start living your life as if it was yours because, news alert, it is. Think about others but not enough to lose yourself in the frenzy of it all. It’s not helpful to be quietly misunderstood. Pick up the phone and ask for help. You do not have to be the perfect picture of strength in every scenario. Bumps along the way do not make you a failure and definitely not, a wasted effort.
I can only hope that you read in between these lines and soak in the grudging admiration dripping off of them. I am proud of you and so are people back home. I genuinely cannot wait to meet you. Make a cup of coffee, read this letter, burn yours, blast ‘You’re on your own kid’, and smile remembering that I’m rooting for you. I always will be.
PS: Can I show your letter to mom and dad? Might help with the snarky comments on laziness that I receive on a daily basis.
With love and admiration,
The one who will always be your loudest cheerleader,
Your younger self.