At sixteen years old I was a junior in high school. I thought the most important things in life were getting the lead in the school play and having my first kiss. I know four year isn’t a long time, but it has been enough time for me to learn that life is way more meaningful than those things. Here is my letter to sixteen-year-old me:
Dear sixteen-year-old me,
First off, you’re beautiful—I know that sounds vain and narcissistic coming from yourself, but you need to know this. The amount of time you spend staring in the mirror will not change the size or your thighs or the bump in your nose. You are fearfully and wonderfully made—find joy in that truth.
Be sweet to yourself. One of my favorite quotes comes from a spring issue of Glamour magazine: “Don’t talk shit about yourself: you’ll start to believe it. Instead or droning on and on about how the top of your thighs touch, why don’t you ask your friends how they’re doing?”
That perfect kiss and perfect relationship you’ve been waiting on? The kiss will happen and it will be romantic. But, the perfect relationship doesn’t exist—you’re better off accepting that now.
The cast list on the drama bulletin board will not define you or your high school experience. You will have to work for the things you want and that will make you one driven and gracious lady.
Stop freaking out about which college you’ll go to—it will all work out exactly how it’s supposed to.
Hold onto the good ladies who support you no matter what—you won’t regret it.
Last but not least, love others as much as you can and learn to be compassionate—you never know what other people are going through.
Love,
Twenty-year-old me