dear sixteen-year-old me

i subscribe to a wicked awesome website called letters of note.  and while i could discuss letter-writing in an entire series of blog posts – which i won’t do, don’t worry – there was a post recently that really sparked my imagination.

apparently, in 2009 a book was publish – only in england, i gather – called dear me: a letter to my sixteen-year-old self in which some individuals of note wrote a letter to their sixteen-year-old self.  letters of note posted a small handful of these letters in this post.

ever since reading the post, i have been a bit preoccupied with the advice i would give my sixteen-year-old self.

so… here goes:

dear younger b,

get used to the adjectives “strange,” “weird,” and “odd.”  these will be used at you and against you until you are cold in the grave.  don’t worry too much about it – who wants to be “plain” or “normal”?  i know the answer to this: you do.  embrace the fact that you are not plain or normal.  it’s one of the best things about you.

you will make a few really good friends.  cherish them and do all that you can to keep them.  these friends will shape who you are and teach you things no one but they can teach.

that boy you’re going to kiss in ireland next summer?  keep in touch with him.  he turns out to be a real hottie!

trust your intuition.  it is right 99.9% of the time.  and when it’s wrong?  trust it anyway.  your life will be more interesting for it.

dance big.  sing big.  love big.  write big.  live big.  and fear nothing.

– older b

p.s. get used to taking meds.  they will serve you well.

now… go write yourself a letter!  (and if you do, post a link.  i’d love to read it.)

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2 thoughts on “dear sixteen-year-old me

  1. speaking of all things lettery: when i die, you want the steamer trunk in my parents’ basement. the early history of us is in there.

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