Wednesday, September 2, 2009
A Letter to my Fifteen Year Old Self
Dear Fifteen Year Old Self (fyos),
I just dropped off your daughter for her first day of school. You have three daughters. (I know. Stop laughing) This one is the oldest. She's fifteen. Yeah yeah, cry. You do in fact get OLD. Older than you think you will get. But dropping her off got me thinking about you, and so I thought I might send you a little note.
First things first. You know that boy? The one everyone is in love with? You know who I'm talking about. STAY AWAY. He will eat ten years of your life. And then throw them back up in your face. Really. You deserve better.
Don't skip any more classes. You need that education. (You end up spending your entire life in school, isn't that funny!)
When everyone else is making fun of that girl in school, don't join in. You did. You even kicked her while swinging your legs as she walked by you on her way to her desk. Everyone laughed. This will haunt you. When you get the lead in the school play, you will be freaking out backstage because you don't have earrings on, and she will pull hers off her ears and put them in your palm. AND YOU don't even go ON until act TWO!!!!!!!!!! She may have made a good friend if you'd taken a closer look.
Your father is not coming home. Stop using his absence as a crutch. He is simply gone. When you meet him again, he will be solid and stable and not half as interesting as you think he is.
Your mother is afraid of you. She tells you that years later. It's why she lets you do all sorts of things you shouldn't be able to do. I know, I know, everyone thinks she is the "cool" mom... but this gets problematic. You will blame her... and she will blame you... so why not take a little responsibility and stop acting like an ASS? Try for a second, Miss cooler than thou? Okay?
Oh. You don't move to Paris and write novels and drink yourself into an early grave. You don't even write your first novel until you are thirty seven and it is NOT brilliant. It is a first novel. Most of them suck. You should have written that earlier. Can you write that one? Can this note change the past? Hmmmmm...
I will have to ask Sarah.
I wish it were different, but I try not to think about you too much.
I wish we could have liked each other better.
I wish all those things never happened to you. I wish someone had noticed you were really very small and fragile even though your mouth was so freaking big.
I suppose what I am really trying to say is... I'm sorry. I should have taken better care of you. Hold tight. It all comes out in the wash. I promise.
*NOTE* A much better version of this post that will make you laugh till you cry is on I think Therefore I blog. Check it out!