Let's get one thing straight here: I was once a complete and utter dweeb.

Not in an endearing way, either. I was a bona fide cringe-worthy tween. For example, I once posted a painfully long monologue from Starkid's "A Very Potter Musical" to a friend's Facebook wall completely unironically, without any provocation whatsoever. I didn't even bother to copy and paste it from somewhere on the Internet; I actually re-watched the 10-minute scene on YouTube multiple times, wrote down every word, and painstakingly transferred it little by little into the Facebook text box. I ended it with an ever-demure "lol just felt like posting that quote :D" and went on my merry way, likely to the great confusion of the friend in question, and to the great chagrin of present me, who is reminded of the incident yearly through the shame-inducing gamut that is the "Your Memories on Facebook" application.

What I find even more embarrassing than my past self is the fact that I still get humiliated over her antics in the first place. It's not like I can Marty McFly my way back to middle school and give my twelve-year-old self a good talking-to. Even worse, I am led to question why the shenanigans of my younger self affect me to the extent that they do. How can a single monologue from an amateur parody of "Harry Potter" have the power to keep me awake at night, along with hosts of other hiccups from years past? It's upsetting to me how easy it has become to get caught up in my memory, especially over moments that don't have much consequence in the grander scheme of things.

Usually, when I move on to a new stage in life (i.e. transitioning from middle school to high school, high school to college), I tell myself that I'm going to be better, that I've learned my lessons and that I'm ready to be the best and coolest incarnation of myself that ever was. But the truth is, I'm always embarrassing myself. There has never been a version of me that hasn't merited exceptional face-palms at one point or another.

And y'know what? I'm slowly realizing that that's okay.

Really, the likelihood is that our peers are more focused (rightfully) on their own lives rather than on our hijinks as awkward tweens and beyond. In fact, a study from the American Psychological Association proves that others usually don't judge us as severely as we judge ourselves, and that showing embarrassment can actually create a sense of social endearment. All things considered, I'm pretty sure that the only other person who remembered my Great "Harry Potter" Monologue Caper before now was that one friend, and that's because the quote in question was posted on her wall.

Yes, it can be hard to learn to laugh at yourself. The thought that I was ever disappointing or naïve or annoying to someone else remains quite haunting. But I'm resolving to worry a bit less about my past incarnations--rife with unrelenting bobby pins and unflattering center parts--and to start accepting the imperfections within all versions of me, past and present. Otherwise, I'm doomed to fear the very complexities that make me hopelessly human, and that's just unhealthy.

So, internalizing years of crippling embarrassment over some irreversible past faux pas proves to be more trouble than it's worth. Really, at every age, we're just trying our best, and that is the true mark of being the coolest versions of ourselves.