God, you really think you’re the shit, don’t you? You’re not, by the way. You’ll look back in a few years and cringe. Hard. The way you type is REALLY bad as well, putting spaces between punctuation , like , this , really isn’t cool ! You’ve also got a shit hair cut.
I know you don’t really think you’re the shit, though. You’re a emotional ball of anxiety, constantly on the verge of tears, hidden by a choppy bleached blonde cut and a short skirt. I’m really sorry to tell you, I know you think that that feeling will go away when you go to uni and start your ‘real’ life, but it doesn’t. You’re still going to feel that way at 25. It’s just you’ll have better ways to hide it. The trick is to pretend not to give a shit – and if you do it enough you can kind of kid yourself that you don’t.
Your self-confidence is at an all time low, I know. I remember your lowest ebb and what you thought of doing and unfortunately, it still brings me to tears thinking about it at 25. The people who made you feel that way will slip into obscurity, I promise you. You will feel better. It does get better. It’s not perfect, but it’ll do. You learn to cope.
Stop worrying about the boys at school. They are fucking lame.
Stop worrying about the girls at school. You will never speak to most of them again once you get out of Stratford-upon-Avon. You know, you never felt like you really fitted in, anyway.
You pass your exams well, and yes, you’re going to Kingston.
Unfortunately, it’s not together forever for you and L. But it’s okay! It ends amicably and you will meet someone else. And you will want to, even though you say you don’t.
Be nice to your mother please. You don’t move back home and this is the last few months you’ll spend together properly before you start adulting. She misses you and loves you more than you know – you’re not looking properly yet. Let her be happy in her own way, too. Stop telling her she is ‘lame’, she ain’t. You’d do well to be a mother like her (no, it hasn’t happened yet, much to her chagrin).
Your brother is bloody awesome, and you can’t see that yet either. Don’t pester, let him grow. It all comes right.
Stop worrying about Daisy. She’s got plenty of time left and she won’t hate you for leaving. You even get to take her to the beach, like you always wanted!
I guess what I’m trying to say is, stop worrying so much. I mean, yeah you’re always going to worry, but stop taking yourself so seriously!
It’s supposed to be fun! The best is yet to come.