Most kids want to grow up. They can’t wait for it. But I know you’re different. It’s okay, I know everything. If I could tell you anything at all, it would be that being as angry, as spiteful, and as righteous as you are is perfectly okay. It’s better than okay. Revel in it. Be a teenage girl as long as you can, and savor every moment of it. Be a child as long as you can, but growing up doesn’t change you irreparably in the ways that you think. At your core you’re the same. Time isn’t as linear as you think it is. In a way, you’re already me, and I’m still you.
Never stop reading. I know you’re thinking I’m crazy, but trust me, there’s a time in high school where you stop the one thing you love most in the world. You fall back in love with it again, but you’ll regret the time you lost. All that fire can be saved for yourself, and the world is not your responsibility to save.
Please know, it’s okay to be gentle. I’m sorry you weren’t really given the choice. Weakness is not something to be afraid of. It sounds cliche, I know. I know you know. But you need to feel it, not just know it. Re-read the Little Prince as many times as it takes. A quick but necessary cliché: there is no answer but love is the answer. It’s the only reason we’re here.
Also you don’t like boys at all. Which I think you know already, and you always knew.
Write about everything that happens to you, everything that you notice. Pet Tickles and Auggie as much as you can, watch lots of films that fill you up inside, and tell your sister that you love her, even if she’s your worst enemy sometimes. 2020 and 2021 are bad years, so learn how to jog and how to drive before then. Trust yourself above everything.
I love you!
Sincerely,
Yena (age 20)
Dear Dea,
I wish I could give you a hug. I wish you could give me a hug. I wish we could have gone through life together. I think it would’ve been a lot more fun that way. I don’t really know what to tell you. I think you know what you need to know, and if you changed anything, you wouldn’t grow up to be me, and I’m pretty cool. Also, I like existing. Which is good news for you! You will like existing.
This letter is much more for me than it is for you. Now that that’s out in the open, and because you will never read this anyway, I’ll go ahead and say whatever I want. I don’t feel the need to comfort or encourage you, because you made it through anyway, and I feel like getting any kind of letter from your future self, so long as it’s not totally run down and hopeless, just by virtue of its existence is a kind of encouragement, because it’s proof you made it through, and are in a good enough place to look and think back to the past. I don’t feel the need to give you advice, because I’m not sure I have the right to give you advice. Girlie when we say you are /living/ right now, we mean you are making /all/ the mistakes, and you really won’t learn what you need to avoid them until you make them. Sorry? But again, you’re making it through, so it’s all panning out. For real, I promise!
I feel a deep, piercing, tenderness towards you. I want to crush you in my arms. I am also /insanely/ jealous of your little piano lessons and how practicing every day was /the/ worst thing in the world. Also, I want to have the excuse of being too short to reach monkey bars again. Also, I miss playing Kim Possible’s Bueno Rufus game and being allowed to cry in public. And I miss the kid’s section. Those clothes make sense.
You are always with me. Every year you’re a little more faded, a little less corporeal. But no less present, and no less real. In my head it’s like you’re shifting phases. From solid to liquid to gas, and the less dense you become the more you seep in. A little self inside a self I wish I could retreat into sometimes, or that I could project around me.
I wish you everything that will happen to you. I wish you all the grace you already have. Wish me the same? And a little bit of luck. We want our thirty-year old self writing to us from a beach house.
I love you dearly,
Dea
Dear Little Geetika,
I am going to be honest with you, but I have been putting off writing this letter to you. Why, might you ask? Because I’m nervous. Nervous because I don’t know what to say to you without scaring you off into your wonderful world with all your favorite Barbie dolls. Spoiler: A live-action Barbie movie comes out in 2023, and it will be everything you and I will have ever wanted in a movie starring her.
Nervous, because there are some days, I miss you. I miss your energy, your liveliness, your spunk. But most importantly, I miss your carefreeness, your boldness. I miss the way you laughed freely and didn’t have a worry in the world. Let me tell you something: things are going to change. You are going to change. You may not like them at first, but in the end, you will love these changes.
12 years down the road, you’re going to be smarter, wiser, and very, very independent. You will be headstrong and stubborn. Hey, you even survive a global pandemic! Unlike what Mom said, life does not get easier after high school. In fact, it gets harder. You’re going to have to look for jobs (Spoiler Alert: it sucks) and lose friendships and relationships. Just remember, do not lose hope at any given point of time. You’re going to come out stronger at the end.
I feel like this might be scary, but not everything changes. You’ll still be as confused, if not more 12 years later. Chaos and drama will always follow you around, starting freshman year of high school. You will still be messy and constantly tumbling, tripping, and falling over things and yourself. Other constants in your life will be your family and Taylor Swift. Taylor will always be there for you. You may even get to see her live someday, who knows? (Last Spoiler, I promise: you do see her, you cry and it’s the best day of your life).
Just don’t be afraid of the changes. Embrace them. They will make you who you are. And for the love of God, please start playing some sports. Your muscles and body will thank you later.
Love Always,
A not-that-much-older Geetika
Dear Little Maria,
You hate reading at this point in life, so you reading this will probably be a lot of you making words up as you go. Don’t worry we 100% still do this.
You’re currently living back on the East Coast after moving to Utah for 9ish years. Don’t worry all the people you were worried about not being friends with after moving, will slowly pop back into your life. You won’t be besties with them, but you’ll keep up with where they are and what they study (some will always be shocking). You are still in school, but away from momma which was a tough adjustment but you’re managing it.
Watson is still around, but he will join Spooky soon, so make sure you love him even more than you already do. Try to convince momma to sneak him onto the playground again, that was one of the most fun days in 2nd grade.
I know you’re worried about falling in love. Well, I’m here to say that it happens. Keep dreaming about it, hold your standards high, and leave relationships when they are no longer serving your needs. You will make friends everywhere you go, and you’ll lose a lot of people along the way, but you’ll survive and do your best to mend bridges.
Honestly all in all, do your best, keep momma as your best friend and your confidant, and don’t listen to your brothers and dad, sometimes all they want to do is tear you down and make you cry.
Love,
Not so Little Maria
Dear Annie,
I’ve written you a few letters, although they are always forward in time, never backwards. I suppose that would be the equivalent of you writing back to me– if you can, by all means. I would love to know what you think of me (you? us?) now. Of who we are. I wonder if you know yet who you will become. How you will write over and over, to others. To yourself. How many times you will endeavor to spill onto the pages of a letter. How you will end up with an envelope made of pen ink stuck into your skin by your best friend and a sewing needle, as though you are yourself the letter and she is writing to you. A tattoo to match her paper airplane, the way she flies through life like no one told her it was possible to do less. That is, until she experienced a needle to the ankle as well– that, she could do less of. Yours is the product of dedication, skin effectively perforated into a perfect, inky, envelope, hers the product of knowing when to stop, when enough is enough. It looks more like a constellation of a paper airplane, but she loves the stars, so enough is enough when it hurts too much.
You will meet Sasha on the first day of high school. You will write in your journal that she seems sweet and funny, and you will not know just how right you are for a while. You will really feel like you are friends at the end of that school year, on a boat in the Boston harbor with your entire school dressed their best. The end of year formal, where the boat will drift semi-gracefully in the harbor while you get your ass handed to you playing foosball, and you will learn that Sasha has played foosball with her cousins in a manner so competitive it is almost religious every summer practically since she was born. The air will be cold, but the roof will be the place to be anyway, watching the harbor. Watching the buildings light up as the sun sets, the inky sky coming down like a fist as the lights in apartments start to turn on.
Your senior year, after formal, you will somehow end up in her (at the time) boyfriend’s car with her and your sisters. He’ll drive, and his motto is “90 on 90, 95 on 95.” He is not going ninety-five miles an hour, but you’ll almost feel the car ascend like a plane anyways. The country radio will fill the space the air leaves as it rushes past (a product of Mom, you know the one). The stars have long since crawled up the sky, and it is hard to believe that your tattoo is almost two years old.
I probably shouldn’t give all of your future away. Let me try again.
I know you love running around the playground, chasing Ryan and Declan with your sisters. Wood chips and hair flying. I know you love reading, and you should stick with Eragon– I know it’s annoying to read in French, but you can do it! I know you like the ducks at the pond (I know you like I know them and I know you like them), the way they talk to each other in sounds that shouldn’t be sweet but are. I hope you are enjoying school (I know this, as your future self, but I also hope for it for you. Maybe that will help). You will love 5th grade, you will stumble past 8th grade, and you will meet people you want tattooed onto you.
I love you and good luck,
Annie (older, wiser, etc.)
Dear Kyla,
It’s me, but a little less youthful and bright. I want to remind you to put yourself first. You don’t need to always listen for others, feel for others, console others. It’s ok to be selfish. Your kind heart made you friends and opened doors but it also makes you vulnerable to people who will walk all over you. Be strong and forgive yourself. Not everything is your fault… like seriously. I am proud of you for looking after Mom, but don’t forget to thank her. Reach out to family and grandparents even though we might not be a big happy movie family and family drama is never ending, shit happens and you’ll miss people when you can’t talk anymore. Be kinder to Dad. Stop trying to forgive a person who didn’t put you first. God gave you a stepdad and he will change everything for you. He provides. He cares. Sidenote losing dogs is the worst, please give Sadie a hug for me. She was so special. Keep up the grind in soccer. Don’t let people tell you your too small… or maybe let them, it’ll make you stronger. Stop carrying about your teammates or coaches opinion. Play for yourself hang on to that love before life gets in the way and it fades.
I want you to know you are strong. Don’t let others burn that flame and stay kind. God is looking out for you and you have big things ahead of you.
Much love,
Ky
Dear Mingyan,
You can’t read English so I’m not going to try very hard. You should also be very grateful that I am writing you a letter since I have a ton of homework I have to finish before tomorrow.
It is 9/13/23. Pegasuses are still not real. Your mother lied to you, and you will not get a cat in America. Maybe it’s for the better because it turns out that you’re slightly allergic to cat fur. American high school is going to be rough. But you’re gonna make it out of it a whole lot better. You’re going to be a great public speaker, a real charmer, and a very stylish intellectual.
It has always been your goal to be extremely sociable at all times. So maybe you’re a little sad to hear that you turned out to be a complete nerd. But that’s okay. We always knew it was coming anyway.
Please exercise more for the love of all that is good and holy. Your frail little vitamin D deficient body is not gonna make it last junior year if you don’t.
You’re actually going to love writing in the future. I know we hated writing assignments in elementary school, but that’s only because our teacher was so boring.
So yeah. Take care of your body and your mental health. Your parents love you. Don’t stress too much or I’m gonna go bald by the time I turn 20.
With love,
Yourself
To me:
I found an old journal the other day, did I tell you? I was meant to be cleaning my room – two years into college and it’s still a mess despite its emptiness – and I got distracted by the notebook cube, on the furthest right column of the bookshelf. I don’t remember if that’s where you’d know it to be. I started going through it, and most of them are a little cringe (sorry). But mostly I found that one from Caroline’s birthday slumber party, remember that? The first one, the one with her friend Sarah, not the one with the communal Google document.
(I still have that Google document, by the way. I’m a little embarrassed by how off the rails I was at that party, but it was seventh grade and I know now that it’s a good thing; I feed off of social energy and I need to give myself enough to stay balanced. I’m sorry you won’t figure that out for a while.)
Anyway, that journal surprised me, because all I remembered writing in it was the first couple of pages where I essentially recounted exactly what had happened each day and made sarcastic comments about how I wasn’t obligated to write in it all the time, and then promptly abandoned it for sunnier pastures. But I found a few additional pages, little blurbs I’d written when I found the journal every couple of years when I did this same sort of thing and abandoned a task to rediscover my own memories all over again. Just little updates about how I was and where my life was headed at that point, things I could and couldn’t admit to myself just yet, things that weighed on me then that don’t seem so bad when I read them back.
So I added to it, just another update about how I am and what I’m doing, the things I hope to do and the things I’ve already done. I made a little bit of fun of you, I’m not going to lie – but I don’t think you’d disagree with anything I said, not yet. And then I put it back on the shelf for me to find later. My best guess is that I’ll find it the same way as I always have, in the middle of another task. Or maybe it’ll be when I’m cleaning out my room for real, moving on to the next big adventure.
There are lots of things I could tell you, but I don’t know that knowing them would make the uphill climb any easier. I do remember being you, whatever age you are, and I know that I didn’t particularly like myself or much of anything else at that time, and I don’t think knowing the future is going to ease that pain. Besides, in a petty sort of way, I don’t want to give you answers because I don’t have any, and to a certain extent I think I need them more than you do. But what I do want to tell you is that you’re going to get better at picking yourself up and sticking to your intuitions, and that crying doesn’t make you weak, as much as you will force yourself to think it does. You owe to yourself more than you take, and though I know you can’t change it yet, I’m glad that you did eventually.
From,
You
To my younger self,
Yes, this is a letter from the future. No, I’m not going to give you spoilers about your own life. I would tell you what to avoid, but I just know you won’t listen. Let me tell you what will matter though: Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in B-flat Major, Opus 23 No. 2. This piece will carry you through thick and thin.
Like powerful waves crashing onto a rocky shoreline, the opening chords and rolling arpeggios send a jolt through your body. They’re something you can listen to over and over again without ever getting sick of it. As the piece moves into the next section, you plunge below the waterline and suddenly the world’s never-ending chatter fades into nothingness. A backdrop of twinkling treble fills the void. A burst of eloquent bass crescendos more and more until it is burning fervently. In a few years, you will find this to be a piece of both passion and comfort. Never have you practiced harder to perfect anything.
Whether you’re frustrated, heartbroken, or just plain indifferent to the world around you, this prelude will mend any rips and tears in your soul. It’s hard to find the motivation to sit alone in a practice room for hours. But each time you pick up your finger to play a note, a little bit of yourself is stitched back together.
I mentioned earlier I wouldn’t tell you what to avoid. I’m sorry, I lied. While navigating the steep and winding path called “growing up”, please don’t lose yourself along the way.
With love,
Your older (and wiser) self
Not much has changed since childhood. Our perspectives have grown through listening and learning, and though we have had goals for the point that I’m at in life now, I believe there has been failure to meet them. A common sentiment throughout childhood was how you would trust future me to make the correct decisions about where to go in life; how to handle a situation, or how to proceed with a given opportunity, or lack thereof. I have tried to stay consistent with those standards, and I think there has been significant improvement in the last few months. Regardless of this, though, there is much of your same fear that holds me back. Intense insecurity with behavior and choices prevents much of what you had dreamed college would turn out to be coming to fruition, and my own efforts are perhaps lacking in changing that. The idea that year after year, the next grade, the next summer, the next goal would begin to meet your expectations of friendship and development as the previous one has been a consistent bar never met. A seed of established roots starts, year after year, only to be withered or transplanted the next. A string of acquaintances but a lack of bonds, watching those around you who you’ve shared few jovial moments with flourish and create such seamless fellowships with others of similar circumstance; there is little that you’ve done to change that up until now. I feel guilt for the youngest years, and contempt for your most recent. Maintaining your few deep connections becomes a challenge when faced with responsibility as well. Never quite mastering your balancing act has become such a contentious point in your life that it becomes all consuming in the dusk of recent days, and all but forgotten as dawn breaks and callow hope replenishes. Reliance on others or the possibility of the unknown is the main method of how you conduct yourself, and this leads to a feeling of dependency. The personality, mannerisms, and skills you’ve developed in youth have set me up for instability; and my job to create a future of joy has seemed to become quite the challenge. I faintly regret some of what’s led up until now, but more so feel these qualities must be tamed, honed, and altered into what I desire, and what has been yearned for the last 20 years. I pray that as I continue to tend to this next seed, the roots begin to stick; there must be some growth, or perhaps a taste of our unmet goals can prosper in how we desire most. I feel that as I write this letter, an air of scorn frosts my words, but make no mistake. There is much to love about your future, and much to look forward to. I find that in this pattern of late blooming, there is a surprising joy in noticing the development that has happened. It’s quite interesting to start to understand what others around me have displayed in their long time behavior, whether it be academic commitment or simply the ability to confidently hold a conversation with a classmate. Regardless, there are a few goals unmet that have been shared by us both that are not yet for me to reach for. The highest fruit for us has been realized, and while there is always room for evolution within that revelation, the outline has become concrete. I will continue my work to reach that point, as you began your work to reach mine, and hopefully this goal will be met at the time we long for. These steps are mandatory in our path, and as footing is found, other joys should soon follow.
Dear Karyme,
How have you been? Now, more than ten years since you have been this age, I wonder how it must have felt before – what it is to feel and think as if one was a child.
I am 12 years older than you. I wonder if you are curious about me.
I can imagine the countless questions you must have, “Did you become a painter? Did you become a ballerina? Are you studying in a university?” I’ll answer your questions one by one. No, I did not become a painter BUT I took art classes with an incredible teacher, Mr. Grey, and you loved his teaching. No, I did not become a ballerina – you should know this about yourself, you’re horrible at dancing and you will regret dancing the way you did at that party when you see recordings. Yes, I am in college, and no, not Pima Community College, but an even better one. You left your family this past year to study all the way across the country in one of those little towns where the leaves turn bright orange and a crisp red. I know you like them!
Rather than answering more of your questions, I would like to tell you a few things. Quiero que disfrutes tu niñes. I know it feels lonely being the youngest in the family, but…have fun. Go outside, fall on the ground more often, make mudpies to feed apá, learn amá’s recipes, and play with your dolls. Amá and apá do care about you, even if they are too busy. Talk with apá more – spend more time with him because in the future you will realize how little time you spent with him. Take amá out and drag her to your lessons with the neighbor as you learn to tejer/crochet. Your parents only have you for 18 years of your life, and after that, you spend very little time with them.
Do what YOU want to do, not what others say. I want you to be confident in yourself, learn as much as you can, and not worry about homework at this young age (I know you too well – you were only seven when you began to stress over it).
I know that was a very sporadic list. But…isn’t that the way you best understand it? You like to hop from one place to another with no ulterior motive, just out of sheer curiosity. Believe in yourself and make good judgment, especially in the days you are upset.
Do not feel bad about your skills. You made it to a pretty good school just because of your hard work. My accomplishments are yours.
You accomplished this.
You can choose what makes you happy, what makes you work harder, and what sometimes brings you sadness. Let this motivate you because your greatest motivator is yourself.
Everything will be okay.
Sincerely,
19-year-old you
Dear young Bianca,
I am being asked to write a letter to you and the first thing that pops to my mind is this popular question/ice breaker that people like to use, which is: “If you could talk to the younger version of yourself, what would you say?”, and many would say they would give advice on school or life. But I can’t provide you with advice, because I believe that this question is depressing. Even if it is possible to talk to you right now, our future will not change for the better because life works against you. No matter what I say to you, there will always be a roadblock, sorrow, and mayhem. Instead of leading you in a new direction and giving you false hope that everything will work out now because we had our little talk, I will instead leave you be. You have to go through life and experience those difficult moments because there is no way around them. Therefore, I will save you from the heartache of thinking that your future will be great, and rather let you get there on your own. Also, I am going to be selfish and tell you that I do not want to see nor talk to you. It will cause misery to present Bianca because even though I do not remember you clearly in my mind, my heart does remember, and I can still feel all the sadness. So, I will leave you in the past, where you belong.
Best,
Present Bianca
P.S Please don’t try to contact me.
Dear Yena,
Most kids want to grow up. They can’t wait for it. But I know you’re different. It’s okay, I know everything. If I could tell you anything at all, it would be that being as angry, as spiteful, and as righteous as you are is perfectly okay. It’s better than okay. Revel in it. Be a teenage girl as long as you can, and savor every moment of it. Be a child as long as you can, but growing up doesn’t change you irreparably in the ways that you think. At your core you’re the same. Time isn’t as linear as you think it is. In a way, you’re already me, and I’m still you.
Never stop reading. I know you’re thinking I’m crazy, but trust me, there’s a time in high school where you stop the one thing you love most in the world. You fall back in love with it again, but you’ll regret the time you lost. All that fire can be saved for yourself, and the world is not your responsibility to save.
Please know, it’s okay to be gentle. I’m sorry you weren’t really given the choice. Weakness is not something to be afraid of. It sounds cliche, I know. I know you know. But you need to feel it, not just know it. Re-read the Little Prince as many times as it takes. A quick but necessary cliché: there is no answer but love is the answer. It’s the only reason we’re here.
Also you don’t like boys at all. Which I think you know already, and you always knew.
Write about everything that happens to you, everything that you notice. Pet Tickles and Auggie as much as you can, watch lots of films that fill you up inside, and tell your sister that you love her, even if she’s your worst enemy sometimes. 2020 and 2021 are bad years, so learn how to jog and how to drive before then. Trust yourself above everything.
I love you!
Sincerely,
Yena (age 20)
Dear Dea,
I wish I could give you a hug. I wish you could give me a hug. I wish we could have gone through life together. I think it would’ve been a lot more fun that way. I don’t really know what to tell you. I think you know what you need to know, and if you changed anything, you wouldn’t grow up to be me, and I’m pretty cool. Also, I like existing. Which is good news for you! You will like existing.
This letter is much more for me than it is for you. Now that that’s out in the open, and because you will never read this anyway, I’ll go ahead and say whatever I want. I don’t feel the need to comfort or encourage you, because you made it through anyway, and I feel like getting any kind of letter from your future self, so long as it’s not totally run down and hopeless, just by virtue of its existence is a kind of encouragement, because it’s proof you made it through, and are in a good enough place to look and think back to the past. I don’t feel the need to give you advice, because I’m not sure I have the right to give you advice. Girlie when we say you are /living/ right now, we mean you are making /all/ the mistakes, and you really won’t learn what you need to avoid them until you make them. Sorry? But again, you’re making it through, so it’s all panning out. For real, I promise!
I feel a deep, piercing, tenderness towards you. I want to crush you in my arms. I am also /insanely/ jealous of your little piano lessons and how practicing every day was /the/ worst thing in the world. Also, I want to have the excuse of being too short to reach monkey bars again. Also, I miss playing Kim Possible’s Bueno Rufus game and being allowed to cry in public. And I miss the kid’s section. Those clothes make sense.
You are always with me. Every year you’re a little more faded, a little less corporeal. But no less present, and no less real. In my head it’s like you’re shifting phases. From solid to liquid to gas, and the less dense you become the more you seep in. A little self inside a self I wish I could retreat into sometimes, or that I could project around me.
I wish you everything that will happen to you. I wish you all the grace you already have. Wish me the same? And a little bit of luck. We want our thirty-year old self writing to us from a beach house.
I love you dearly,
Dea
Dear Little Geetika,
I am going to be honest with you, but I have been putting off writing this letter to you. Why, might you ask? Because I’m nervous. Nervous because I don’t know what to say to you without scaring you off into your wonderful world with all your favorite Barbie dolls. Spoiler: A live-action Barbie movie comes out in 2023, and it will be everything you and I will have ever wanted in a movie starring her.
Nervous, because there are some days, I miss you. I miss your energy, your liveliness, your spunk. But most importantly, I miss your carefreeness, your boldness. I miss the way you laughed freely and didn’t have a worry in the world. Let me tell you something: things are going to change. You are going to change. You may not like them at first, but in the end, you will love these changes.
12 years down the road, you’re going to be smarter, wiser, and very, very independent. You will be headstrong and stubborn. Hey, you even survive a global pandemic! Unlike what Mom said, life does not get easier after high school. In fact, it gets harder. You’re going to have to look for jobs (Spoiler Alert: it sucks) and lose friendships and relationships. Just remember, do not lose hope at any given point of time. You’re going to come out stronger at the end.
I feel like this might be scary, but not everything changes. You’ll still be as confused, if not more 12 years later. Chaos and drama will always follow you around, starting freshman year of high school. You will still be messy and constantly tumbling, tripping, and falling over things and yourself. Other constants in your life will be your family and Taylor Swift. Taylor will always be there for you. You may even get to see her live someday, who knows? (Last Spoiler, I promise: you do see her, you cry and it’s the best day of your life).
Just don’t be afraid of the changes. Embrace them. They will make you who you are. And for the love of God, please start playing some sports. Your muscles and body will thank you later.
Love Always,
A not-that-much-older Geetika
Dear Little Maria,
You hate reading at this point in life, so you reading this will probably be a lot of you making words up as you go. Don’t worry we 100% still do this.
You’re currently living back on the East Coast after moving to Utah for 9ish years. Don’t worry all the people you were worried about not being friends with after moving, will slowly pop back into your life. You won’t be besties with them, but you’ll keep up with where they are and what they study (some will always be shocking). You are still in school, but away from momma which was a tough adjustment but you’re managing it.
Watson is still around, but he will join Spooky soon, so make sure you love him even more than you already do. Try to convince momma to sneak him onto the playground again, that was one of the most fun days in 2nd grade.
I know you’re worried about falling in love. Well, I’m here to say that it happens. Keep dreaming about it, hold your standards high, and leave relationships when they are no longer serving your needs. You will make friends everywhere you go, and you’ll lose a lot of people along the way, but you’ll survive and do your best to mend bridges.
Honestly all in all, do your best, keep momma as your best friend and your confidant, and don’t listen to your brothers and dad, sometimes all they want to do is tear you down and make you cry.
Love,
Not so Little Maria
Dear Annie,
I’ve written you a few letters, although they are always forward in time, never backwards. I suppose that would be the equivalent of you writing back to me– if you can, by all means. I would love to know what you think of me (you? us?) now. Of who we are. I wonder if you know yet who you will become. How you will write over and over, to others. To yourself. How many times you will endeavor to spill onto the pages of a letter. How you will end up with an envelope made of pen ink stuck into your skin by your best friend and a sewing needle, as though you are yourself the letter and she is writing to you. A tattoo to match her paper airplane, the way she flies through life like no one told her it was possible to do less. That is, until she experienced a needle to the ankle as well– that, she could do less of. Yours is the product of dedication, skin effectively perforated into a perfect, inky, envelope, hers the product of knowing when to stop, when enough is enough. It looks more like a constellation of a paper airplane, but she loves the stars, so enough is enough when it hurts too much.
You will meet Sasha on the first day of high school. You will write in your journal that she seems sweet and funny, and you will not know just how right you are for a while. You will really feel like you are friends at the end of that school year, on a boat in the Boston harbor with your entire school dressed their best. The end of year formal, where the boat will drift semi-gracefully in the harbor while you get your ass handed to you playing foosball, and you will learn that Sasha has played foosball with her cousins in a manner so competitive it is almost religious every summer practically since she was born. The air will be cold, but the roof will be the place to be anyway, watching the harbor. Watching the buildings light up as the sun sets, the inky sky coming down like a fist as the lights in apartments start to turn on.
Your senior year, after formal, you will somehow end up in her (at the time) boyfriend’s car with her and your sisters. He’ll drive, and his motto is “90 on 90, 95 on 95.” He is not going ninety-five miles an hour, but you’ll almost feel the car ascend like a plane anyways. The country radio will fill the space the air leaves as it rushes past (a product of Mom, you know the one). The stars have long since crawled up the sky, and it is hard to believe that your tattoo is almost two years old.
I probably shouldn’t give all of your future away. Let me try again.
I know you love running around the playground, chasing Ryan and Declan with your sisters. Wood chips and hair flying. I know you love reading, and you should stick with Eragon– I know it’s annoying to read in French, but you can do it! I know you like the ducks at the pond (I know you like I know them and I know you like them), the way they talk to each other in sounds that shouldn’t be sweet but are. I hope you are enjoying school (I know this, as your future self, but I also hope for it for you. Maybe that will help). You will love 5th grade, you will stumble past 8th grade, and you will meet people you want tattooed onto you.
I love you and good luck,
Annie (older, wiser, etc.)
Dear Kyla,
It’s me, but a little less youthful and bright. I want to remind you to put yourself first. You don’t need to always listen for others, feel for others, console others. It’s ok to be selfish. Your kind heart made you friends and opened doors but it also makes you vulnerable to people who will walk all over you. Be strong and forgive yourself. Not everything is your fault… like seriously. I am proud of you for looking after Mom, but don’t forget to thank her. Reach out to family and grandparents even though we might not be a big happy movie family and family drama is never ending, shit happens and you’ll miss people when you can’t talk anymore. Be kinder to Dad. Stop trying to forgive a person who didn’t put you first. God gave you a stepdad and he will change everything for you. He provides. He cares. Sidenote losing dogs is the worst, please give Sadie a hug for me. She was so special. Keep up the grind in soccer. Don’t let people tell you your too small… or maybe let them, it’ll make you stronger. Stop carrying about your teammates or coaches opinion. Play for yourself hang on to that love before life gets in the way and it fades.
I want you to know you are strong. Don’t let others burn that flame and stay kind. God is looking out for you and you have big things ahead of you.
Much love,
Ky
Dear Mingyan,
You can’t read English so I’m not going to try very hard. You should also be very grateful that I am writing you a letter since I have a ton of homework I have to finish before tomorrow.
It is 9/13/23. Pegasuses are still not real. Your mother lied to you, and you will not get a cat in America. Maybe it’s for the better because it turns out that you’re slightly allergic to cat fur. American high school is going to be rough. But you’re gonna make it out of it a whole lot better. You’re going to be a great public speaker, a real charmer, and a very stylish intellectual.
It has always been your goal to be extremely sociable at all times. So maybe you’re a little sad to hear that you turned out to be a complete nerd. But that’s okay. We always knew it was coming anyway.
Please exercise more for the love of all that is good and holy. Your frail little vitamin D deficient body is not gonna make it last junior year if you don’t.
You’re actually going to love writing in the future. I know we hated writing assignments in elementary school, but that’s only because our teacher was so boring.
So yeah. Take care of your body and your mental health. Your parents love you. Don’t stress too much or I’m gonna go bald by the time I turn 20.
With love,
Yourself
To me:
I found an old journal the other day, did I tell you? I was meant to be cleaning my room – two years into college and it’s still a mess despite its emptiness – and I got distracted by the notebook cube, on the furthest right column of the bookshelf. I don’t remember if that’s where you’d know it to be. I started going through it, and most of them are a little cringe (sorry). But mostly I found that one from Caroline’s birthday slumber party, remember that? The first one, the one with her friend Sarah, not the one with the communal Google document.
(I still have that Google document, by the way. I’m a little embarrassed by how off the rails I was at that party, but it was seventh grade and I know now that it’s a good thing; I feed off of social energy and I need to give myself enough to stay balanced. I’m sorry you won’t figure that out for a while.)
Anyway, that journal surprised me, because all I remembered writing in it was the first couple of pages where I essentially recounted exactly what had happened each day and made sarcastic comments about how I wasn’t obligated to write in it all the time, and then promptly abandoned it for sunnier pastures. But I found a few additional pages, little blurbs I’d written when I found the journal every couple of years when I did this same sort of thing and abandoned a task to rediscover my own memories all over again. Just little updates about how I was and where my life was headed at that point, things I could and couldn’t admit to myself just yet, things that weighed on me then that don’t seem so bad when I read them back.
So I added to it, just another update about how I am and what I’m doing, the things I hope to do and the things I’ve already done. I made a little bit of fun of you, I’m not going to lie – but I don’t think you’d disagree with anything I said, not yet. And then I put it back on the shelf for me to find later. My best guess is that I’ll find it the same way as I always have, in the middle of another task. Or maybe it’ll be when I’m cleaning out my room for real, moving on to the next big adventure.
There are lots of things I could tell you, but I don’t know that knowing them would make the uphill climb any easier. I do remember being you, whatever age you are, and I know that I didn’t particularly like myself or much of anything else at that time, and I don’t think knowing the future is going to ease that pain. Besides, in a petty sort of way, I don’t want to give you answers because I don’t have any, and to a certain extent I think I need them more than you do. But what I do want to tell you is that you’re going to get better at picking yourself up and sticking to your intuitions, and that crying doesn’t make you weak, as much as you will force yourself to think it does. You owe to yourself more than you take, and though I know you can’t change it yet, I’m glad that you did eventually.
From,
You
To my younger self,
Yes, this is a letter from the future. No, I’m not going to give you spoilers about your own life. I would tell you what to avoid, but I just know you won’t listen. Let me tell you what will matter though: Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in B-flat Major, Opus 23 No. 2. This piece will carry you through thick and thin.
Like powerful waves crashing onto a rocky shoreline, the opening chords and rolling arpeggios send a jolt through your body. They’re something you can listen to over and over again without ever getting sick of it. As the piece moves into the next section, you plunge below the waterline and suddenly the world’s never-ending chatter fades into nothingness. A backdrop of twinkling treble fills the void. A burst of eloquent bass crescendos more and more until it is burning fervently. In a few years, you will find this to be a piece of both passion and comfort. Never have you practiced harder to perfect anything.
Whether you’re frustrated, heartbroken, or just plain indifferent to the world around you, this prelude will mend any rips and tears in your soul. It’s hard to find the motivation to sit alone in a practice room for hours. But each time you pick up your finger to play a note, a little bit of yourself is stitched back together.
I mentioned earlier I wouldn’t tell you what to avoid. I’m sorry, I lied. While navigating the steep and winding path called “growing up”, please don’t lose yourself along the way.
With love,
Your older (and wiser) self
Not much has changed since childhood. Our perspectives have grown through listening and learning, and though we have had goals for the point that I’m at in life now, I believe there has been failure to meet them. A common sentiment throughout childhood was how you would trust future me to make the correct decisions about where to go in life; how to handle a situation, or how to proceed with a given opportunity, or lack thereof. I have tried to stay consistent with those standards, and I think there has been significant improvement in the last few months. Regardless of this, though, there is much of your same fear that holds me back. Intense insecurity with behavior and choices prevents much of what you had dreamed college would turn out to be coming to fruition, and my own efforts are perhaps lacking in changing that. The idea that year after year, the next grade, the next summer, the next goal would begin to meet your expectations of friendship and development as the previous one has been a consistent bar never met. A seed of established roots starts, year after year, only to be withered or transplanted the next. A string of acquaintances but a lack of bonds, watching those around you who you’ve shared few jovial moments with flourish and create such seamless fellowships with others of similar circumstance; there is little that you’ve done to change that up until now. I feel guilt for the youngest years, and contempt for your most recent. Maintaining your few deep connections becomes a challenge when faced with responsibility as well. Never quite mastering your balancing act has become such a contentious point in your life that it becomes all consuming in the dusk of recent days, and all but forgotten as dawn breaks and callow hope replenishes. Reliance on others or the possibility of the unknown is the main method of how you conduct yourself, and this leads to a feeling of dependency. The personality, mannerisms, and skills you’ve developed in youth have set me up for instability; and my job to create a future of joy has seemed to become quite the challenge. I faintly regret some of what’s led up until now, but more so feel these qualities must be tamed, honed, and altered into what I desire, and what has been yearned for the last 20 years. I pray that as I continue to tend to this next seed, the roots begin to stick; there must be some growth, or perhaps a taste of our unmet goals can prosper in how we desire most. I feel that as I write this letter, an air of scorn frosts my words, but make no mistake. There is much to love about your future, and much to look forward to. I find that in this pattern of late blooming, there is a surprising joy in noticing the development that has happened. It’s quite interesting to start to understand what others around me have displayed in their long time behavior, whether it be academic commitment or simply the ability to confidently hold a conversation with a classmate. Regardless, there are a few goals unmet that have been shared by us both that are not yet for me to reach for. The highest fruit for us has been realized, and while there is always room for evolution within that revelation, the outline has become concrete. I will continue my work to reach that point, as you began your work to reach mine, and hopefully this goal will be met at the time we long for. These steps are mandatory in our path, and as footing is found, other joys should soon follow.
Dear Karyme,
How have you been? Now, more than ten years since you have been this age, I wonder how it must have felt before – what it is to feel and think as if one was a child.
I am 12 years older than you. I wonder if you are curious about me.
I can imagine the countless questions you must have, “Did you become a painter? Did you become a ballerina? Are you studying in a university?” I’ll answer your questions one by one. No, I did not become a painter BUT I took art classes with an incredible teacher, Mr. Grey, and you loved his teaching. No, I did not become a ballerina – you should know this about yourself, you’re horrible at dancing and you will regret dancing the way you did at that party when you see recordings. Yes, I am in college, and no, not Pima Community College, but an even better one. You left your family this past year to study all the way across the country in one of those little towns where the leaves turn bright orange and a crisp red. I know you like them!
Rather than answering more of your questions, I would like to tell you a few things. Quiero que disfrutes tu niñes. I know it feels lonely being the youngest in the family, but…have fun. Go outside, fall on the ground more often, make mudpies to feed apá, learn amá’s recipes, and play with your dolls. Amá and apá do care about you, even if they are too busy. Talk with apá more – spend more time with him because in the future you will realize how little time you spent with him. Take amá out and drag her to your lessons with the neighbor as you learn to tejer/crochet. Your parents only have you for 18 years of your life, and after that, you spend very little time with them.
Do what YOU want to do, not what others say. I want you to be confident in yourself, learn as much as you can, and not worry about homework at this young age (I know you too well – you were only seven when you began to stress over it).
I know that was a very sporadic list. But…isn’t that the way you best understand it? You like to hop from one place to another with no ulterior motive, just out of sheer curiosity. Believe in yourself and make good judgment, especially in the days you are upset.
Do not feel bad about your skills. You made it to a pretty good school just because of your hard work. My accomplishments are yours.
You accomplished this.
You can choose what makes you happy, what makes you work harder, and what sometimes brings you sadness. Let this motivate you because your greatest motivator is yourself.
Everything will be okay.
Sincerely,
19-year-old you
Dear young Bianca,
I am being asked to write a letter to you and the first thing that pops to my mind is this popular question/ice breaker that people like to use, which is: “If you could talk to the younger version of yourself, what would you say?”, and many would say they would give advice on school or life. But I can’t provide you with advice, because I believe that this question is depressing. Even if it is possible to talk to you right now, our future will not change for the better because life works against you. No matter what I say to you, there will always be a roadblock, sorrow, and mayhem. Instead of leading you in a new direction and giving you false hope that everything will work out now because we had our little talk, I will instead leave you be. You have to go through life and experience those difficult moments because there is no way around them. Therefore, I will save you from the heartache of thinking that your future will be great, and rather let you get there on your own. Also, I am going to be selfish and tell you that I do not want to see nor talk to you. It will cause misery to present Bianca because even though I do not remember you clearly in my mind, my heart does remember, and I can still feel all the sadness. So, I will leave you in the past, where you belong.
Best,
Present Bianca
P.S Please don’t try to contact me.