an open letter to the sixteen year old me:

Below is a post from when I was sixteen years old with comments from me at twenty:

i'm not the type of girl that would be considered 'beautiful'. (You're very beautiful. You have an amazing smile and pretty eyes. And your laugh can transform a room. I know, because now I can see that) i'm not the girl that can crawl into bed and fall asleep. (Well, you never really tried that hard. Wait until you're in college while working thirty hours a week. Then we'll talk about sleeping.) i'm not the ditzy girl my father thinks i am. (One day, you won't care what your "father" thinks of you. You'll realize that you have a Dad, and you don't have to visit him every other weekend, either.) i'm not the straight a student that my mother wishes from me. (No, and you likely never will be. But you're capable of it. And so much more.) i'm not a good best friend. (Yes, you are. It's not your fault that your high school friends didn't appreciate the person that you were/are. You'll get better friends in college who make you feel valuable. Just remember that.) i have trouble listening. (It's possible that you're never going to get over that one, sorry. I've been trying, I swear.) i get distracted too easily. (Yeah, that'll never change either.) i walk into doors and walls too much. (Or this.) i obsess over bands and hold them close to heart. (I'm sure you'll never believe this but there's going to be a time in your life when you realize your parents were right. New music sucks. And the music you once loved won't be as important. And I'm going to save you a lot of heartache, sixteen year old me, and just tell you that Fall Out Boy goes on hiatus, The Academy Is... breaks up, Ryan Ross leaves Panic! at the Disco, and Cobra Starship really started to blow around their third album) i watch too much tv and spend too much time online. (Yeah. And you haven't met Gossip Girl or Netflix yet. Or wireless internet. I'm so sorry.) i'm terrible at spanish but decent in html. (You only get better at html. I can't say the same for Spanish. Or French. Or Latin. You know, we really suck at languages) i have trouble getting my mind to shut up. (I'm sorry about that. It's not getting any better.) i'm not the poster child for perfect skin. (I'd like to tell you that it clears up, but I have a mountain on my cheek right now. I'm so sorry) i'm not sporty like my brother. (Meh. Maybe you'll never be a baseball player or love soccer, but you're getting to be really good at Just Dance 2 for Wii.) i'm not girly like my cousins. (I know this sounds crazy. But one day - around the time when you're twenty - you'll have more "girly" clothes than band shirts. I know. I know. But you'll realize that frumpy tees don't do your body much justice. Just you wait.) i don't do drugs. (And you still don't) i don't smoke (Still don't do that either. And you won't. EVER.), i don't drink (Okay. So. I hate to break it to you, sixteen year old me, but drinking is kind of awesome. We're a really fun drunk). i'm not pretty and popular. (You're actually really pretty. And one day you'll look back at high school and realize that it didn't. fucking. matter.) i hate shopping. (You'll probably never like clothes shopping. But one day you'll find the wonder of having a Barnes and Noble a mere five miles from your house. And that, my dear self, is when you'll come to love shopping. You'll also meet a girl named Cara Bigelow who will take you into a makeup store for an hour. Don't question it, because she'll turn out to be your best friend.) i'm stubborn and selfish. (Not really.) i never listen. (Shut your mouth and stop talking back to your mother. You'll miss her like crazy one day.) i make mistakes too much. (You'll come to realize that your mistakes are probably the best stories you have to tell.) my grammar is bad and so is my spelling. (And ironically, you became an English major. That's really funny.) i'm immature. (At sixteen, yeah. And that's okay. You're much better at twenty. Except for the My Little Pony thing.) i have trouble making goals and even more trouble sticking to them. (Not always true.)