You are my future me, and I have to teach you to live if you want to really live.
First: Review my highlight tape, memorize it, burn it and do the exact opposite.
Boys will pick on you and call you names. You’re going to want to cut yourself because you think you’re ugly. This is a lie. You are beautiful inside and out.
In 1986, you’ll bang your head on the edge of a concrete step and get a wicked concussion because of underage drinking. When you get home, don’t go to sleep. Tell your mother.
You’re going to want to skip school and hang out with an older boy. You won’t achieve your dream as a high profile lawyer living in New Hope this way.
Stay away from this boy.
If you don’t follow my wishes, you’ll marry this boy, attempt suicide again and almost succeed.
At some point, you’ll become addicted to drugs and will be stripping in New Jersey to cover your habit. You’ll also do ‘extra things’ to make money.
My apprentice, you are beautiful; smart; stunning.
Go to school. Follow your dreams.
Stay away from boys until you’re in your thirties.
You’re going to second guess yourself every step of the way while listening to the advice of fools and day job zombies.
This is a mistake. Follow your heart.
Trust me. I’ve been there.