What I Wish I Could Tell My 14-Year-Old Self
I would tell my angsty 14-year-old self that she should keep writing and keep designing.
That she can and should do both.
That not many people can do that, and that she IS that talented.
I wish I could tell her that her instincts are usually right, especially about what to wear and friends and romance. I wish I could tell her to tune out the voices of what “society” says.
I wish I could tell her that someday girls will think she’s really cool instead of weird.
I wish I could tell her to embrace that weird.
I wish I could tell her that she doesn’t need to lie to anyone, but especially to herself.
I wish I could tell her that one day she’s going to meet a man that is unlike any other man.
A man that loves her — flaws, torment and all — that would make her finally feel like she mattered in the world.
He will show her that a man can respect a woman without her body being used as currency.
He will unlock the heart she kept hidden behind anger; anger for the world, anger for men, anger for the agony of “what am I doing here? does anyone like me? who the fuck am I?”
I wish I could tell her that she does belong here, and that she is so beautiful, and that someday she will find someone who wants to wake up next to her every single day for the rest of his life.
I would tell her that she’s going to do incredible things, if only she stops getting in her own way.
What would you tell your teenage self?