Letter To My 13 Year Old Self
Bobby thinks I should write a ‘Letter To My 13 Year Old Self’ and since I really, really, REALLY like him , I shall oblige. She is a difficult one, this one, but here goes…
Young, lady, where do I begin with you? The fact that you have grown up with boys, doesn’t mean you will grow up to be one. Honestly, I know you love going up and down mango trees, soccer and whooping kids’ behinds, but believe me, you are not ‘one of the boys’.
I know in all the mayhem and trying to fit in you take too much responsibility but I wish you could slow down on that, as you grow older. You cannot keep solving everyone’s problems and a point will come you will feel like your brain is going to burst. Don’t worry though, the people you have been there for are appreciative and they will continue telling you that even as years go by. Try and keep close friends, you will need them.
O and I know you are very anxious to get to high-school. Believe me, it’s not all what Charlene told you it would be. Especially since it will be a girl’s only school, a completely new ball-game, than what you are used to. Continue living inside yourself, and don’t feel bad about it, because, as G will tell you at the end of the four years, they admired you most for staying out of trouble and avoiding drama.
Now, comes the difficult part. Listen Kid, you will start having crashes on boys. Don’t look at me like that! I know you don’t think much of them, but girl, you are in for a ride of your life! Luckily, you don’t go blurting things out, so you will not make a fool of yourself….much….. You’ll live. And your adventure with boys shall not end, as you shall have one drop dead gorgeous one of your own. Seriously! Did you really think you could tom-boy your way through life till nursing home? Girl, please!
And don’t worry about this career business everyone keeps shoving down your throat. I know mum says you need to decide what you want to do yourself but with your kind of adventure, you will learn so many things, the word career will look like some misplaced noun in an unknown dictionary. You’ll be ok.
Enough grown-up advice for now. I know how much you hate reading long blocks of text and being told stuff. Other than telling you to stop mistreating Davie, I think you’ll love life’s lessons, as harsh as they come.
P.s: Those two swellings on your chest are not anything to panic over! Don’t tell mum to take you to the hospital because you shall never hear the end of it.