Dear 16-year-old self,
Live your life and stop being emo. Stop putting eyeliner on your eyebag because it does not look good on you. Stop wounding your arm with that cutter; I command you to throw that away now. And by the way, you’re pretty in ponytail than in a headband with a ribbon as large as your head. You’re beautiful. You really are than what I am now.
Anyway, as your older self, I beg you to sleep. Yes, I BEG you to sleep. Stop crying on your bed, she’ll never come back to you. After four years, you will meet someone who is much worthy of your entirety. Sleep now darling, because I tell you, you can’t when you reach my age.
Take Interior Design or Creative Writing. You always knew that you liked them, but you believed in the opportunities in the field of Education to a point that you denied liking writing and designing. But I tell you, follow the path that would make you happy for the rest of your life.
I know that you are crying on your bed right now, pathetically wishing for her hug. Stop that, please. And eat, and drink water and again, live.
Your 22-year-old self