You've got your whole life cut out for you. You've been born to some pretty bitchin' parents, so just thank them for that when you can. You're going to get to go see far away lands, try different cuisines, do things that most people won't get to do - take every advantage of it. You'll make new friends, and you'll lose friends, just remember to smile. Also, eating crayons leads to Technicolor-poopie, cute at first but it isn't pretty after the first go around. Also, stay as close to the titties as you can, because it's going to be a LONG winter before you see those spring buds again.
Dear 5-year-old Me:
Well, yeah, that little pile of flesh and blood called your brother won't be able to play baseball - he's fresh-mint out of Mom. Also, it's ok to admit that you liked the color pink - sure you'll get teased, but you'll be thankful that you did in the future. Yes, you're a military brat, yes you love to hear the sound of your own voice, and no, don't listen to the others because Santa is real. I'm really sorry, but for the next fifteen years or so, life will get kinda rocky, and pimply, and your voice will crack - but you'll have an h-e-double-hocky-sticks of a time. Also, puberty, it's going to do wonders for you...just kidding, it's going to suck but the cloud will pass against the sun, and then everything will be better. Also, did you not take my warning about the titties? Oh well, brace yourself, the winter is coming.
Dear 10-year-old Me:
Let me make this perfectly clear; it is not ok to pick on that boy because he was wearing pink, even though you're scared that you'll be found out for wearing pink. Just be open. Yeah, you'll get made fun of, but that doesn't make it ok to pick on the boy. Also, when you get made fun of later, you'll realize how that boy felt.
Another thing, you know how you are starting to have these weird emotions and urges? Go to that computer, don't delete the small cute fairy-story you were writing, and just write what you're feeling. Trust me, you'll be so glad you did. When that girl kissed you while you were on the playground and you felt like you could fly, and you jumped from the jungle gym and you landed in the wood-chips and knocked yourself out for a few seconds - that's the best.
Also, you're going to meet one of your best friends in the whole world soon, and when you do, you two will be thick as thieves. You'll laugh and cry together, you'll write together, you'll love Jane Austen together - don't ask who Jane is, that's another question for a later date and time.
So much rests on your shoulders now you don't even understand. Write, continue to write, and have fun.
Dear 15-year-old Me:
AHH! You've made it this far, puberty is high in gear, and the world is spinning and fast. You're mind is processing possible girlfriends faster than you can control, and more than once you're going to be thinking with your other head. Yes, it's ok to say damn and hell, but only when it is appropriate. Music is great, but I hate to break it to you - you won't be as great as you wish you were. You are so much better at writing. Also, Carthage is soon going to be just a memory. Keep in touch with your best friends, but don't be surprised when you lose touch with them. It happens, it sucks, but it happens. Also, you're about to go out with an amazing girl, and then you're going to say and do something entirely stupid, and it's going to haunt you for the rest of your young life. But don't get too toasty, you're about to move soon, and when you do, you'll get to drink. As much as you want (but the reality is that it's not as much as Animal House makes it out to be). Two more things;
one, keep writing. You're at your most vulnerable when you do, and that only makes your heart stronger with constant exposure to air. And secondly, delete your browser history, you dirty little teenage kid. Never spank the monkey in public - you won't do it, but if you do, things will only get worse. Also, remember it's time to do the Time Warp again.
Dear 20-year-old Me:
CONGRATULATIONS Numb-nuts! You made it through high school. You resisted all fetters of traditional life and went to a private catholic school - Lord how that didn't work out. You loved the friends and the teachers, but you just didn't fit in and that's ok. Also, you came home for summer and you stayed there - diabetes can do that to a person. But because of that door closing, the window of opportunity opened and guess what? That's right, you want to be a teacher, live overseas and work of DoDDs school. You will keep an eclectic sense of music - you'll also have something amazing happen to you.
You will get one of the world's best boyfriends. Mhm. Boyfriend. He makes you feel so warm and cuddly inside. Sure, he's on the other side of the Atlantic puddle, but you'll see him soon. Remember how you used to make fun of others in the past because they were different? Well guess what - you're on of the different ones! You're along in the club with the rejects and she-jects, the goths and emos and theater kids, the writers and anime-freaks, the Whovians and Potterheads. You aren't afraid to use some language when necessary, and you'll always toe the line of acceptability of social norms. You're a geek, a freak, a writer, pirate, cult-film connoisseur - but you're also who you were always meant to be.
So go on, let your freak flag fly, write that sonnet about underwear on flagpoles flapping in the mid-morning breeze, just remember one thing - no one makes it out of life alive - it does us in.
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