Dear Me (a letter to my younger self)

I know what I want to tell you, but it won't make a tiny bit of difference, even if the me from the future was standing right there in front of you and you poked me in the guts. And you would. Ow.

You are as stubborn as hell.

If I could, I would give you more tools in your life and relationship toolkit, but I've only lately found them myself, and if I gave them to you you wouldn't grow into me and then how would I go back to give you them? Eh? This is not Bill and Ted. (Time paradoxes are fun, tho.)

So you won't learn by my experiences, only by our own, and sometimes not even then... and I'm not going to tell you not to feel your feelings, or not to do what you're going to do, because that's how it was, at the time, and that's how we got here. I'm not about to invalidate myself.

(This is turning out quite convoluted.)

I would ask you though, please, remember what Granny told us about doing right. Not by some external morality, religion, or hers, or anyone else's, but your own internal one. And crucially, expect it for yourself. Do right by you. Stick to your guns. Never surrender. (If you want more clichés, I've got 'em.) Those are the only mistakes you ever regret making in the long run.

That's all.

Love me

Ps Stop worrying about your thighs, you have no fucking idea how pretty you are.

Pps I KNOW I said it was pointless telling you anything, but how could I resist? You know me. :D