Oh, The Things She’d Say…

What would you say to your younger self? The lottery numbers, of course… 

On a more serious note, I was lying in bed the other night and my brain went on one of those crazy trips where it thought up another imaginary situation. You know, things that could never happen but are so fun to dream about anyway. 

That night it was about what would happen if my 16-year-old self met me today. Would we get along? Would she be happy to see what I’ve become? I was lying there and thinking about all the dreams she had, and how none of them came true. And how I would explain that to her. 

I guess I’d start by telling her to stop wanting to become an adult so badly. Being an adult is nothing like it seemed, she earns more money now, yet somehow she is still broke. 

I’d tell her to relax, nothing she worries about now is going matter in a year. I’d tell her that even all those things she spent hours of thoughts on became nothing – or turned out completely different than she imagined them. I’d tell her that things happened which she never could have imagined. 

I’d tell that boys still suck, but she’ll find a nice one just as soon as she stops looking. 

I’d tell her not to get upset when she can’t have Mcdonalds over the weekend, one day she’ll have Mcdonalds for breakfast, lunch and dinner and with dinner happening at 2 am she’d give anything for a home cooked meal. 

I’d tell her that she still hasn’t found herself, but it’s okay, she’s not lost. She’s just wandering. 

Then I guess I would mention that she should stop trying to diet. It’s many years later and she’s still fat, so just go ahead and eat those fries and be happy. Never eat warmed up fries though, they suck. 

After this discussion she would probably be so confused, but maybe she would look at her teenage life a little differently. 

And then, just as this thought ended and I finally closed my eyes… my brain came with another thought. 

What if I could meet my future self now? Oh, the things she’d say… 

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From a girl who lost her mind.

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