What Would My 13-Year-Old Self Say to Me Now?

We all been asked that one question: If you were to give your younger self a piece of advice, what would you say?

Someone asked me this recently. I stared a complete blank and came to the conclusion that I wouldn’t say anything at all. Because my 13-year-old self was destined for great things and it’s my 30-something-year old self who didn’t believe in those great things anymore.

Why and when did that happen?

At 13, I was fierce. Sure, a tad bit sensitive, but I was on a mission to leave my mark. I wanted to be an author, saw myself living in Europe and wanted to work for a fancy company. I had a lust for life and loved just as deeply. Somwhere along the line, I began thinking that I wasn't a good enough writer, a smart enough student, a decent enough person. I didn’t think my words would matter and that I was difficult to love.

Somwhere along the line, I began writing these stories in my head and listened to them. As life goes on, there may be a point in every adult's life that we forget how to see the magic that surrounds us. Time moves more quickly, loved ones come and go, and getting up after getting pushed down gets exhausting. That's probably why I decided to embark on this journey in rediscovering the magic in the little things. Magic surrounds us if we choose to be open to it. But every once in awhile, we need that reminder from our younger selves who saw the world for what it is and believed enough in it.

As much as my 13-year-old self would want to know how life was like in the future, I wouldn't tell her a thing. Instead, I would ask her for a letter to remind me of how beautiful and simple life is. To teach me how to let go of the concept of time. To instill that trust back in me to believe that the next chapter of my life is one worth looking forward to even at 30, 60, and even 80. If there’s one thing that separates my 13-year-old self from my 30-something-year-old self that is hope, and sometimes we need a little reminder of that.

If my younger self were to write me a letter it would probably say:

“Dear future you,

I have dreams and a lot of them. I know you remember them well, because we are, after all the same person. We both share the same wavy hair that don't stand against humidity and absolutely hate math. We love to hug and be hugged, and love a good alternative rock playlist.

But we are different. I am a firm believer that I am capable of great things, and somewhere along the line, you lost it. You don’t think you’re good enough anymore and you will start putting our dreams on hold because life happens.

But life happenes to everyone. Everyone needs to pay bills, and they also hit bumps on the road. You’re going to be scared to go after the things you want because there have been things that never panned out – that job, that place you want to move to and those relationships that could have been more. You're going to fear losing time, growing older, and losing people.

But please don’t. Please give everything another chance and one more go. Grow from everything that have hurt, belittled or worn you out. Also, trust that you can stand alone. Be a kid, again. Be me, again. I have a lot of dreams at 13.

Don’t let me down.”