Dear Young Me.

You're thirteen and the boy you like has dated two of your friends already. You're still a baby, naive and innocent, and you don't understand why you should be angry at your friends, even though they have known from the start you liked him. It's not their fault, you think. You can't control feelings. They're not doing it to hurt you. They just can't help it. You're thirteen and you have no bloody clue what girl code is, what uteruses before duderuses mean. You just don't know. 

Instead you're sad, oh so very sad. Your grandmother just died and it's the biggest tragedy of your life. You keep going to your dance lessons because your mum asked you and you just want to make her proud. She's in everything you see, everything you do. 

You're fourteen and all the people you thought were your friends are not. You've all been separated into different classes and you're all alone in the one you're in, and the people you thought were your friends are not. You have to start all over again. People think you should change class and you get offended - because who are they to say you're not going to make it there, who are they to say you're not going to win the fight. You're already a fighter, you just don't know it yet, you have no words for this. You're still a baby, still innocent, still naive. If the boy you liked dated another one of your friends, you still wouldn't get angry at her. You still haven't realised he uses you and he doesn't care about you, he just jokes around with you in Latin class because he knows you like him and you're clever and you'll give him the answers during tests - because you like him.

And you like him and you give him the answers and you pray that one day, he'll actually see beyond the good mate you are. And you go on a school trip to Spain and you try again and when your journal is passed around he writes that you'll still be friends in high school and you believe him. 

You're fifteen and you're in high school. You start getting interested in other boys. The boy you used to like lied to you and you don't talk anymore because he has no interest in talking to you anymore and now you start seeing it. You're growing up. You're still a baby in oh so many ways but you're growing up and you're starting to see that he was using you all along. 

The other boys... You're determined, you really are. You think that if they date someone, it has to be you. You think that they will notice you. And yet it doesn't work. Your friend gives you the phone number of the boy you fancy because that was common back in 2006 and you text him because back then, no one thought it was creepy to start a conversation with someone with "my friend gave me your phone number". 

And then you panic so much you turn your phone off for three days and barely eat. You're almost sick and it's raining and you watch The Wizard of Oz and you try to get it out of your mind even though it's out in the open, now. He knows. Even though he has no clue who you are and probably never will.

You're a worrier. The tiniest things make you sick. And you still long to be loved.

You're sixteen and school is shit. It really is. You're the token poor kid in a class full of rich girls in Burberry coats. You're trying really hard to find yourself, to find your style, and to be happy with who you are but it's so hard when you don't have the money to dress nicely. You just want to be as cool as Peyton in One Tree Hill but you don't have nice blond curly hair, you just have puffy black hair and no sense of style. You spend your Saturday afternoons watching One Tree Hill and your Tuesday nights watching football. 

You have no real friends and you're sad and lonely. You'd probably do everything to fit in. And you do. You, the bullied kid, take part in bullying without realising it. It lasts two weeks and everyone hates you, and you don't understand why they're only picking on you. You take your part of the responsibility but there was a whole group and they come through unscathed and they don't accept their part of the responsibility. You start to realise that those people were never your friends to start with and where you accept your mistakes, they don't. You're the one that faces the threats and are scared to go out during the summer. Not them.

You're strong. So strong. And yet you don't have the words.

You're seventeen and school is still shit. You have the same classmates but the rich girls in Burberry coats have left and you feel a little bit better about yourself. Your music taste is expanding thanks to that beautiful thing called the Internet and you get your very first band t-shirt. It's a Beatles t-shirt your mum probably got in a supermarket but wearing it with your cheap straight jeans and the Converse you got for your birthday makes you feel good about yourself. Look, world. I like The Beatles. It's the same when you get your oversized Liverpool jersey for Christmas. It makes people talk about you. The young boys in the bus, they talk about you. Look, she's wearing a Liverpool shirt. You're no longer invisible.

You have Internet friends who are as passionate about football as you are. You love them with all your heart and you know they are actual, real friends. You talk every single day and at the weekend, you talk until it's 3am. You have never seen them in the flesh but they are your family and you love them with all your heart. You exchange phone numbers even though everyone's always said you shouldn't give your phone number to people off the Internet and you text sometimes. They are your friends. Your actual, real friends.

You're less lonely and you're no longer invisible.

You're eighteen and high school is over. You are at university and you have to make friends because you don't know anyone. And it happens quicker than you'd ever thought it would. It happens on the first day. You're the girl with the red scarf and you have successfully made friends. Your music taste will expand again, you will start going to gigs, you will learn the chorus of Boulevard of Broken Dreams on the bass and remember it for about ten seconds, you will laugh so hard your jaw will ache, you will cherish that first year of university.

It's March and you go see Fall Out Boy live and when you were in the venue, singing along to Dance, Dance, you didn't realise it would change your life forever. You're shaping yourself. You're making new Internet friends and these ones like music just as much as you do. They like Fall Out Boy just as much as you do. It's a new era for you.

You're nineteen and university starts taking its toll on you. You don't really know where you stand and you feel confused. You wanted to be a teacher but now you don't anymore. You're always waiting until the next gig - who would have thought they'd have taken over your life so quickly. You want to see your Decaydance Heaven friends all the time, you wish they lived closer. You spend the entire weekend together when you go see Cobra Starship and it's one of the best weekends of your life. You cry on the way home. 

You're emotional, all the time. You miss the boy you fell for and you miss your friends. You're not too sure where you belong anymore. Apart from where it comes to a gig venue and tons of strangers singing along to your favourite songs with you.

You're nineteen and your life has changed.

You're twenty and you think you're on top of the world when you find out the worst thing you could ever find out. You're mourning but you don't want to tell anyone. You're mourning and you don't know how to deal with it. It's making you miserable, it's making you feel isolated, it's making you feel scared. You're on your last year of university but you don't know what you'll do next - you have ten thousand ideas and you're too scared or too unsure to pursue any of them.

You're sad all the time, now. You're depressed. You don't belong anywhere and the people you think are your friends are bringing you down more than they're pulling you up and you can't see it. They make you feel like you bother them when you need to talk about how lonely and isolated you feel and how scared you are but you keep talking to them because you don't know who you should talk to instead. You cry all the time and you're not just the token emo kid. You're just sad.

You're twenty one and university is over. You start travelling around the UK and you're not too sure why. You go see Young Guns, Rise To Remain, Kids in Glass Houses, You Me At Six. You meet people. Some you think are your friends. You're not too sure. You're just trying to be away from home and to fight off your demons and the loneliness. You don't know where you're going and you hope you'll get better one day, even though you hate yourself, you think you're ugly and you have no plans and no talent and everyone else does. "Hope is all we have and all we've ever known". That sticks with you. It's the only thing that does.

Your friends are imperfect and some friendships start falling apart slowly. You know you should rip the bandaid off but you're not strong enough.

Your life changes again on one April night but you're not sure you feel any better.

You're twenty-two and you start feeling slightly better. You have better friends and you think the ones you have have understood they need to pull you up and not bring you down. You're still in the UK all the time, travelling around and hoping you will find yourself in the process. Megabus has become your new best friend.

Weirdly enough you still feel incredibly lonely. Girls your age have serious boyfriends and they start having kids and you don't do any of that. You don't fall for anyone, you don't meet boys and you still hate yourself, you still think you're ugly, whatever you do. People around you have talent and they go places and you're still stuck in your hometown, like the protagonist of a traditional pop punk song. You don't know. You just don't know.


You're twenty-three and it's true what they say, no one likes you when you're twenty-three. You have lost some of your friends and then you made friends again and you lost them again and the bottom line is none of your friendships are stable. You lose friends for stupid reasons, you push some away, some disappoint you but in the end you still wish you were friends. You're lonely and you feel like everyone hates you.
You hate yourself less and you learn to be comfortable in your own skin but it never lasts because you're surrounded by people who think that if they're not comfortable in their own skin, you're not allowed to. You just want to be free.


You're twenty-four and you've had your heart broken. He had a lovely smile and he thought you were lovely, but also he thought he liked you but in the end he didn't and it broke you. You panicked because you thought he'd see you weren't as perfect as your music taste and you acted in a way that's not really you. All your self-confidence and your happy go lucky exterior and your big smiles have turned into jealousy you don't understand and self-consciousness and tears in a tent while listening to Neck Deep.
You're twenty four and on the same day one of your main friendships ends and you see a picture of the boy who broke you with his new girlfriend and you realise you're over him. This is a new start in your life, a new leaf. Finally you're free. Finally you're allowed to do whatever you want and there is nothing and no one to hold you back and you feel on top of the world.


And now you're twenty-five and you've made one of your biggest dreams come true. You now live in Brighton, England, and everytime you set foot outside you don't realise that it is a thing that is happening. You live by the seaside and you're a vegetarian and you've learnt how to cook and you're trying to fend for yourself. You're just trying so hard.
It's not easy every day but you're surrounded by wonderful people. You have your brother who supports you endlessly and you have your friends who send you cute things and support you and yell at the world with you. You're still confused, mind you. After not being supported you're confused that people actually have your back. And they do. And it's the best feeling.
Not everything is easy. You get your heart broken by a boy who changed his mind, another one. You fancy a guy at work but you lose your job shortly thereafter and you know life is not a romantic comedy and you would need a big, fat dose of luck to get with him, you know it would take more than running into him at Aldi.
You still get sad from time to time and you've understood that being depressed is not something that comes and goes, it stays with you forever and it has a slight tendency to pop up from time to time, unannounced. You've learnt to love yourself and to support yourself through thick and thin but you're only human.





You're thirteen and you will be fine. You will get over your grandmother's death and you will learn that she would always be proud of you, no matter what you do. She's still in everything you are, in everything you do. That's what happens when you grow up with such a strong, independent, caring woman. She leaves an impact on you forever.

You're fourteen and you will be fine. You're a fighter and you will realise that when you have all the words, when you grow up and you understand. It's always been in you. You're a fighter. You don't let boys use you anymore. You have standards and you understand.

You're fifteen and you will be fine. You're still a worrier and the tiniest things can still make you sick. You're still determined and you still long to be loved. You're loved. You will be loved. Unrelated, but just so you know, Jimmy Eat World will become your favourite band in time. That's how important being fifteen will be.

You're sixteen and you will be fine. You will find real friends and you will learn to love yourself and to tame your puffy black hair. It's a part of who you are. You can't draw, you don't have a record label, but I can promise you you're just as cool as Peyton in One Tree Hill, in your own way. Because you will decide you're cool. You'll find out it's that easy.

You're seventeen and you will be fine. Your music taste will expand in time and you will no longer be invisible, not now, not ever. Your Internet family, in a way, still exists, and whatever happens you will cherish them and carry them in your heart forever. They have taught you how to love and what real life friendship was and it's a lesson you will always need.

You're eighteen and you will be fine. You deserve that first year of laughter and unsuccessful bass lessons at university, you really do. Your second Internet family teaches you another lesson or two about friendship. After all you have been through, you deserve that happiness.

You're nineteen and you will be fine. Believe me, you will stay emotional forever. You will cry because you miss your friends and because music exists. Spoiler alert, but you will become the queen of emo. You will keep on waiting until the next gig. And you will find your way, I promise.

You're twenty and you will be fine. You're going through the biggest tragedy of your entire life but you will be fine. You will always miss your mum and you will struggle but you will learn she would always be proud of you, no matter what you do. Just like your grandmother, she is in everything you are, in everything you do, and she is endlessly proud of you. You will learn from her, you will become strong, and independent, and caring, and loving, and free-spirited. You will come out on the other side just fine.

You're twenty-one and you will be fine. You will become strong enough. Those years travelling around the UK, someone will shove them in your face like you've spent them dealing drugs or killing puppies, but they have shaped you and made you who you are. You will realise that in the end.

You're twenty-two and you will be fine. You will get out of your hometown and become a protagonist in a different pop punk song. Girls around you will keep getting married and having children and having serious relationships and it will still weigh on your mind because you're a worrier through and through, but I promise you you will start believing that your time will come. You're impatient, and it won't be easy, but you will believe.

You're twenty-three and you will be fine. You will spend that year being the protagonist of a different pop-punk song but the most important is that on your twenty-third birthday, you were in New York listening to your favourite song about being twenty-three. You will learn to love yourself and you will learn not to take shit from anyone, ever. You will learn that you don't have to carry other people's insecurities.

You're twenty-four and you will be fine. You will get your heart broken really badly, but the beautiful thing is that you will not be scarred for life and you will still put yourself out there and you will still love endlessly, wholeheartedly. You will be free. You will no longer be scared to be who you are. You will find yourself and you will learn that you constantly change.

You're twenty-five and you are fine. You know that you're strong and you're a fighter and you're passionate and you're independent and you're amazing and you're beautiful but you also know you're fragile and you're emotional and you're impatient and you like attention. You know who you are, you've learnt to listen to your heart and to your mind and to your body. You have learnt so many valuable life lessons, and you have learnt that who you are is fine. You have standards. You're human, of course, and it's not easy every day but you know you are fine and you will always be fine eventually, and you know your time will come for the things you wish for. They say hope is all we have and all we've ever known and it's been four years but it's still quite true. Your life is far from being perfect but you've learnt not to strive for perfection. You strive for happiness.




You will go through so many struggles, you will lose friends and you will have a hard time and you will cry yourself to sleep and you will be depressed and you will have so many days when you don't feel strong enough to get out of bed and you will hate the world and you will get frustrated and you will have a tough time and you'll be fucking miserable at times.
But hold on to the good times. Hold on to your friends and to the gigs and to the fireworks and to the walks by the seaside and to the impromptu salsa classes and to the random days out with your brother and to the random nights out with your friends and to the times you will drink too much and pour your heart out on a bench in Cardiff or in a hostel in Brighton or in the streets of Lincoln and to the kindness of strangers and to the boys who think you are pretty and to the nights you will lose your voice because you've sung along to pop punk songs in a sticky club and to the music recommendations at 4am in the streets of Wolverhampton when you're drunk and to the things that don't make sense and to the random train trips to dead end towns on a whim and to the arcades and to the puppies you will see and get to pet and to the cake you will get to eat and to the festivals and to the live music. Hold on to that. Remember that.
You will remember the hard times but you need to never forget the good times, you need to trust there will be so many more to come. Because there will be, even through the hard times.