It’s no secret that I Google myself more often than is necessary. I should be ashamed at how easily I’m persuaded about someone somewhere writing something about me. See, in my head that sounded like a plausible explanation but now that I’ve read it out, I could be a little less vocal. (Duely not noted.)
So while I was bouncing around for motivation (Trying to steal ideas for this week) I remembered I hadn’t googled myself in a while. (Because something’s obviously going to change. Pfft) I’ve never gone past the first page because the disappointment of finding nothing of actual interest always held on to my collar threatening to tighten around me if I didn’t stop. But today, today was different. I actually hit ‘Next page’.
+Spoiler alert+ YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT I FOUND, Y’ALL.
It’s not even that big a deal but since drama is trés dramatic and I’ve got a reputation to live up to, YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN THAT COMING! Anyhoo, here’s the thing I found.
If you read that, you’re a darlin’, that you are. But if your lazy ass didn’t want to check it out, I feel ya. Truth be told, I knew I had a blog or two or seven hundred around the internet under different names. I’ve never made an effort to remember the passwords because which fifteen year old in her right mind would do such a thing? Passwords are for the weak. This little site that my sister made for me, Jesus knows why, still bounces about the internet under my name. Is your mind blown? Mine is. (There’s no reason why yours should be, come to think of it.)
Seeing that this was four years ago and written ON MY BIRTHDAY, had my soul dramatically swoon with a hand on her head. Because, the language is firstly border line obnoxious. (Yet, that is exactly how I continue to speak. Sigh.) Secondly, I was very evidently trying to please my sister. Thirdly, I’ve realized I’ve always struggled with coming up with ideas to write which explains why my first post was a thickly veiled thank you to her for pushing me into this. (Could I kiss more ass? Methinksnot.) Fourthly, I’m low key proud of my fifteen year old self for trying out typing as opposed to writing things down on random pages.
Lastly, I realized I’ve never written myself a letter. I’ve written a couple of people a few letters but to me, NO. It’s just about time I jump on the bandwagon and take it for a spin. (A really bumpy and cringe-y spin.)
What I’d like to tell my fifteen year old self.
Little shit, you thought writing a book was easy. You thought! I’m not entirely sorry you realized it’s a feat your lazy ass couldn’t achieve. But, on the contrary, boy am I glad you tried the one thing you were told not to do. You’d be happy to know you did get yourself into the college you wanted. You didn’t have to use your non existential plan B. Your little group of friends simmered down to just two. They’re cool and the other two aren’t as much. You might’ve lost a bit of your streak somewhere in between for being too hawty about scoring big time. You’ve learned from that, I’ve got your back now. (Don’t jinx.) You didn’t really end up with X. But you have terrible thoughts. About his girlfriend. Yup, I want to pull her hair out and claw her eyes out and ….. You know, do the same exact thing you’d do. You might’ve sobered down a little, not too much. Your anxiety has only sky rocketed. Not that I’ve made any conscious effort to stop that. You run a blog now and successfully kept it going for a year, nothing like your previous zero effort projects. (Don’t jinx.) You still speak fluent bullshit. Also, you learnt a little bit of French. You can say yes and no, that’s about that. (Between you and me, your French slang is on point.) You haven’t stopped dancing. You’re going at it and probably even gotten better at actually learning something from the four million videos you see every day. Your humour has only gotten dirtier and hardly makes much sense but you still find yourself laughing at everything you say. You picked some really classy friends from college that still tolerate your annoying presence from time to time. (Don’t jinx.)
Now this, this is really for you. You’ve stopped the body hating on a major level. Yes, I’ve tried taking care of you. We’re not there yet but I’m trying to get you there. Your cravings aren’t as bad as they were. Your anxiety killed your appetite for a bit but I guess it’s back because you wolf down six biscuits like it’s grapes. Im trying really hard not to sound cheesy but there’s plenty of fish in the sea. They’re not around you right now but you’ll reel them in. Your late night crying for no real reason has, you’ll be pleased to hear, relatively reduced. You don’t starve yourself anymore and it’s been a hot minute since you had awful stomach aches because of skipping your damn meals. (You must’ve been really stupid, now that I realize. ) You haven’t let anyone forget you. Not the important people, at least. You’re always up in their face, making it rather difficult. (Don’t jinx.)
You’ve come a fairly okayish way, to say the least. You survived then and writing this down makes me think I’ll survive now. (Don’t jinx.) You’ve gone and done your bit and I haven’t thanked you for getting me where I am (Partly because it’s really weird since we’re the same person). Maybe not wholly thankful but to you in your year, I’m especially thankful.
You’ve been human. More or less. (Please don’t jinx.)
Thanking you, (No, really)
Yours forever truly,
I didn’t realize it’d be as liberating and exhilarating and croissant (I’m embracing the France in me.) as this was. If you haven’t tried to do one of these, God alone knows why, you probably should. Write to whichever part of your life you want. If you’re like me and dwell a lot in the past, this is exactly what you need. Just what you need.
Until our time meets again,
LAST POST: WAITING FOR A STRIKE
INSTAGRAM: ANYA ABRAHAM