an open letter #2

photo from: tumblr

Dear, 16-year-old me:

           We made it! Alive and sane, we made it! Sixteen was quite a feat and there were so many things we got to learn along the road. We made more adventures than we did back at fifteen so I guess there's progress. I know you want this over. You're tired and bored and insecure and all the wrong adjectives/adverbs in one, but I want to tell you this-- the best is yet to come. Don't scurr at me and tell me it's never going to happen. The school, the friends, the drive, the guy, the everything. Oh but you are so wrong. Life is absolutely all that you've worked hard on. Everything is starting to fall in place, you know? Lemons are slowly being squeezed into lemonade. 

But I mean, can we talk about senior year though? How that was a really terrible time for us? How our expectations were never met and our fears proved to be possible? Can we talk about how maybe I shouldn't use the pronoun "us" and use "you" instead? Because in most ways we aren't the same, in so many levels, no. We're not "we" anymore. You are you and I am I, and the difference there is between us is something I think you'll be very proud of.

Although I must admit that coming to this age has led me to rebel a bit more and to be more of a b*tch, I want to assure you that I'm working on it. And that I'm trying my best to be the woman you've always dreamed to be. Also, there are things I've come to realize aside from what I've already mentioned. I'm scared. I know it sucks hearing that from me, but it's not the fear you've tasted. And I don't know whether I should say this one is less terrifying or more. But things are starting to change and new people are starting to come in to my life and I don't have the sense of urgency from your priorities anymore. 

I'm being insensitive. I'm allowing them to hurt. Shut up, this isn't corny this is real talk. If there's one thing I miss about being you, about being sixteen, it's knowing your limits. I don't feel that anymore. I don't feel the line touching my chest telling me this is where I stop. But then again, I'm trying. And I hope by the time 18 comes, I've already decided who I really want to be.

Thanks for all the battled struggles, I mean for not giving up and learning from the experiences. Thanks for wanting to do more and for not wasting a year away (completely).

P.S. Sorry this is late... supposed May 23rd.

I'm leaving this be, open and free, something that the public eye can see.

Much love, 

Aya