Dear 15-Year-Old Self,
Your hair looks great. Your clothes are cute. You look good! You’ll look back at this time and go, “Wow, I’m glad I didn’t dress like the other girls. I’m kinda proud I wore my brother’s old t-shirts and rocked the tomboy look hard.”
Also, you suck at driving. Like, you’re not terrible (you’ll pass the test first try) but you could be better. You need to focus more. Mom and Dad are trying to nicely tell you so they don’t set off any of your depression land mines… so just consider being nicer to them and listening. They’re trying their best. Your brother will keep you in check though. He doesn’t give one shit about upsetting you or not. That motherfucker ain’t walking on eggshells. Hell Nah, and you love him even more for that.
You’ll think about your math teacher that passed away almost every day. That won’t ever stop – she meant a lot to you even though you didn’t know her that long.
Keep an eye out for depression, Mom thinks this is around the age you start getting depressed (although, you won’t go see a doctor about it until you’re 18). Maybe, if you spot the signs early enough you can avoid the 10 years of medication and years of therapy. It will save you some money, that you’ll want for a nose job to fix your deviated septum. Just want, it gets worse – you break it again Senior year jumping off the couch… Keep jumping off the couch but save your face and not the TI-83 calculator (and math textbooks). They’ll probably survive the tile floor impact but the cartilage inside your face will not.
Dude, keep covering up those hairy arms. That shit hasn’t gotten any easier with age – sorry. You still hate the hair and ‘someday’ you will get it lasered…
Cherish your summers working at the resort. That shit sucks at times but you’ll look back on these times as some of your favorites. Shit at 15 you’ve run a million dollar resort on your own! Don’t knock the skills you’ve learned. You know stuff others don’t. It’s only basic knowledge to you because you’ve lived it. You’ll NEVER forget the gross skunky beer dripping down your legs while sorting recycles or the smell of fish guts and maggots. Also, don’t sell that shitty MP3 player – it’s made by a company that won’t make it but you’ll enjoy looking back at the player and/or using it. Speaking of which – you’re still not over that bitch in gym class who stole your blue iPod Mini (you worked multiple summers for that!) but maybe try to find forgiveness and start trying to move on now… So you’re not sitting here at 27 wanting to back over someone with your car. Just an idea.
No more spoilers from me. But know that your puppy Pearl is doing great! She’s still wild and does whatever the fuck she wants. You tried.