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Dear Writer
A Letter to 17-Year-Old Me
Dear 17-Year-Old Me,
Hey kid, it’s been a long time, 34 years to be exact. Can you believe I made it to 50? Yeah, me either. I’ll let you in on a little secret, you were wrong; 50 isn’t old at all. I have so much to tell you, things I wish you’d have known. If you knew the things I know now, you’d have been unstoppable.
Looking back at you, I have mixed emotions. I feel quite a bit of sadness for everything you went through. But I also feel a great deal of gratitude for making me who I am today.
You were so insecure, so full of doubt, shame and self-loathing. You wanted to be anybody but you. It caused so many problems. Funny, I look at you now and wonder why you couldn’t see what I see now.
I remember how ugly and unloveable you felt. I remember how you hated your unruly curly hair, your chubby face and your skinny body. I remember you always slinking into the background because you felt like you didn’t deserve the spotlight.
The truth is you were, and are beautiful. Girl, you’re fucking hot! Don’t believe me, well, check this out. It’s you, but 30 odd years later. I mean, damn!:
