What Would I Do If I Meet My Own Self?

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to meet yourself face-to-face? Not just looking at your reflection in a mirror, but actually standing in front of a living, breathing version of you — someone who talks like you, laughs like you, and carries all your memories and scars.

I think about this more often than I care to admit. Maybe it’s a late-night thought that creeps in when I’m lying awake, or perhaps it’s triggered by a song that reminds me of who I used to be. Either way, the idea fascinates me: What would I say? Would I like myself? Would I even recognize myself?

The first thing I imagine doing is simply staring. I would probably examine every detail — the way my eyes move, how I stand, the nervous habits I don’t even notice. Seeing myself from the outside would be like watching a stranger who feels oddly familiar. It would be a strange mixture of comfort and discomfort, like running into an old friend you’ve grown apart from.

Once the shock wears off, I imagine we’d start talking. At first, the conversation might be awkward. I’d probably ask my other self the most mundane questions just to break the ice: "How’s your day going?" or "Did you sleep okay?" But underneath those simple questions, I’d really be asking, "How are we really doing? Are we happy? Are we proud of the life we’re living?"

I would want to know what my other self thinks about all the choices I’ve made. Would they approve of my current job, my relationships, my dreams? I imagine they’d have some opinions. Maybe they’d remind me of dreams I left behind or nudge me to keep pursuing the passions I once cherished.

Meeting myself would also be an opportunity to confront my insecurities head-on. I’d have to face the parts of myself that I avoid — the self-doubt, the procrastination, the guilt over opportunities missed. Looking into my own eyes, there would be no room to hide behind excuses or distractions. My other self would know all my fears because they’ve felt them too.

But I think there would also be a lot of kindness. After all, who else understands exactly how hard certain days have been? Who else knows every silent victory, every small moment of courage? My other self would know the weight I carry and the quiet strength it took to keep going. Maybe we would sit together in silence, acknowledging everything we’ve been through without judgment.

There would also be laughter. I imagine sharing all the inside jokes that no one else could ever understand. We’d laugh about embarrassing moments from school, the awkward text messages we regret sending, and the silly mistakes that seemed so catastrophic at the time. That kind of laughter, shared with yourself, would feel like the purest form of acceptance.

I think about the advice I’d give myself. I’d probably tell myself to worry less, to take more risks, to stop overthinking every tiny detail. I’d say, “Trust yourself more. You’re doing better than you think.” And maybe my other self would tell me the same things back.

I would also ask questions I can’t seem to answer on my own. Am I on the right path? Have I hurt people without realizing it? What truly makes me happy? Talking to myself might not magically solve these questions, but hearing them spoken out loud might offer a surprising sense of clarity.

After the deep talks and the tears and the laughter, I imagine we’d go do something fun together. Maybe we’d go for a long walk, eat our favorite food, or watch a movie we both love. It would be like spending a day with the closest friend possible — someone who gets every joke, knows every reference, and can finish every sentence.

Eventually, the moment would come when we’d have to say goodbye. I think I’d feel a bittersweet sadness, but also a newfound appreciation for who I am. Meeting myself would remind me that I’m not just a collection of flaws and regrets; I’m also a mosaic of resilience, growth, and small victories.

In the end, I believe I’d walk away from that meeting with more compassion toward myself. I’d stop being so harsh on the days I fall short and celebrate the days I get back up. I’d remember that every scar tells a story and that it’s okay to not have everything figured out.

What would I do if I meet my own self? I’d listen. I’d laugh. I’d forgive. And above all, I’d promise to take better care of us.

Because sometimes, the person we need to meet most isn’t a stranger, a mentor, or a soulmate — it’s the person we see in the mirror every morning. And maybe, just maybe, if we learn to truly meet ourselves with honesty and kindness, we’ll discover the courage to become the best versions of who we’re meant to be.