Dear 30-year-old Emily,
Hey. I have to admit, I feel a little awkward right now. I mean, not only am I talking to myself but I’m talking to myself out here in the open. I made peace with that quickly, though. Maybe whatever I have to say here is something whoever is reading this has to hear.
I turned 20 this summer, and it was pretty awesome. Not much changed in the way of things I’m permitted to do under the law, sure, but I had a great time celebrating and everything. So, that’s what’s been going on with me, I guess.
You’re in an interesting position here. You know everything there is to know about me, but you don’t even exist yet. As this is the case, I’d like to spend a lot more time talking about you.
Do you think about me much? To be fair, I spend far more time than I probably should thinking about my past self. It’s unfortunate, though, that whenever I do I become full of contempt. I want to hate my past self for not knowing what I do now, for not handling situations in the way she should have. I hate her in the most cruel and unfair way because she didn’t know any better. It’s taken a concerted effort to train my mind to be forgiving to myself for not knowing. Even so, I struggle sometimes. But, hey, I’m young and I still have plenty of time to learn.
Maybe 10 years will be enough. Was it?
Okay, I’m sorry. That was a pretty loaded question to start off with. I have a lot of questions, actually, so I guess I’ll break them down in a different way.
Emily, if you’re 30 and reading this, how does it feel? To be 30, I mean? I was surprised to find how hard I took it when the realization finally hit that my teenage years are days gone by. Not in the “oh my God, I’m getting so old!” way, because that’s super lame. You and I both know that getting older is what human beings do best, and it’s silly to get caught up worrying about that kind of thing at any age. Do you feel different, though? Do you carry yourself differently? Do you talk to others in a different way?
Emily, if you’re 30 and reading this, what advice would you give me now? I suppose if I were to give my 19-year-old self advice, I would tell her to break up with her boyfriend. I would tell my 18-year-old self to chill out a little bit. I would tell my 17-year-old self to put the tweezers down and that her eyebrows look fine. What would you tell me?
Emily, if you’re 30 and reading this, what secrets do you wish I had known? I’m still holding onto the naive hope that someday soon I’ll finally, actually, figure it all out. If that day came, I bet you remember it well. Another guess I have is that it didn’t happen all at once. If I did really “figure it all out,” I bet it happened slowly, over time. Maybe you can’t even name it. Maybe it was like finding that damn piece that slid under the sofa and you were finally able to finish the puzzle. Was it like that?
Emily, if you’re 30 and reading this, is it going to be okay? At my age, I think I have a pretty good idea of how life tends to go, in that some of the time it is okay and some of the time it isn’t. Either way, I just hope that whatever happens to me—or, whatever happened to you—you are stronger for it.
That’s it, pretty much. All that’s left is that question from earlier: was 10 years enough?
Actually, let me rephrase that.
Emily, if you’re 30 and reading this, do you forgive me for not knowing? I know I’m not always kind to our body and I know I make stupid decisions sometimes. I would apologize, but you’re me, so I think I can spare the formality. To be more specific, I suppose, were you finally able to put all the regret, shame and mistakes to rest? Are you now able to live your life freely with what you’ve learned so far?
The future is terrifying. It’s hard to imagine a world where I’m not 20, studying for exams or chugging iced coffee or acting like a fool with my friends in the early hours of the morning.
I guess I thought the same thing ten years ago when I couldn’t imagine a world where I wasn’t 10, running around outside with my brother and sister or practicing long division or making gingerbread houses with Grandma at Christmas time.
It does me well not to think of the future too often, and to just take things one day at a time. Write back about how that turns out, okay?
Take care.
Love,
20-year-old Emily