Dear 16 Year Old Self…
Remember the day when your best friend’s dad called you ‘Thunder Thighs’? Of course you do. It was summer, you were 12 and wearing shorts. For zas long as I can remember our body has always felt like a shell that didn’t belong to us. Read More
Yes you, it really is me. But it is me/you from the future, 2012 to be precise. Hard to believe I know, the new millennium seems so far away in December 1984.
I’m writing to wish you a happy sweet sixteen, yeah I know what you’re thinking. Our 16th was absolutely rubbish. In fact you are really angry and confused and pissed off right now.
I’m going to keep this short, you wouldn’t want it any way else. I realize you beg, wish, plead, and pray every night for someone to come along and aid you in times of difficulty. Be patient. You feel alone – listen to me, don’t. Your muffled screams haven’t gone unheard.