Dear fifteen-year-old me,
This is your conscience.
No, for real though. This is nineteen-year-old me, laughing at you and regretting past actions.
First of all, you're not in love. You're fifteen. You barely know the guy. Chill. Get to know him as a person. You won't regret it, but you will definitely regret asking him out again.
That girl in the creative writing club? Talk to her. Get to know her. That is gonna be your best friend in the world in a couple of years.
Don't stress about not having a boyfriend, not growing, not having big boobs, not getting a homecoming date. (You're gonna give up on homecoming as an upperclassman anyway, and the boobs will grow.) Focus on your friends, your adventures, your life.
Make the most of your last summer at camp - take on new challenges and talk to new people. You might surprise yourself. You might make new friends. At the same time, don't forget about the people who have been around for a while. Molly is too awesome not to spend time with. (And yeah, you'll still be friends with her when you hit college. Congrats on almost a decade!) And yeah, it's cool that the popular kids have adopted you, but they won't even remember you in a few years. Stick with the people who love you for you.
Take some risks. Join NFTY. Talk to strangers. Smile at people in the halls. Take the train by yourself. Walk places. Don't let your life be controlled by the anxiety you don't know you have yet.
Yes, your job is awful and you hate people and customer service is terrible. Yes. Those are unchangeable facts. But you will not work there forever. And some of your coworkers are actually kind of cool.
Watch yourself around certain people. That boy is going to break your heart in a couple of years. That girl too. The other girl is going to ghost on you, only to return three years later when she wants something from you. Some of the people you count as friends now will prove harmful to your mental and emotional health. A hint from the future: if you feel accomplished when they engage with you, they aren't good friends to you. Another hint from the future: if you feel the need to try to impress them on a regular basis, it's time to question why you need to impress someone who's supposed to already like you. And if people you call friends look at you askance every time you let your quirks show, ditch them. That's not a friend move.
Remember who you are. Don't get caught up in the intrigue of "he came up and was all 'can I get a hug' maybe he likes me". (He doesn't, incidentally. He's a consummate flirt.) Don't let the guys who have bugged you since eighth grade become people you care about in any regard - especially in the context of what they think of you.
Throw yourself into the things you love - speech, choir, writing. Stick out the year, because the years will get progressively better.
Lots of love,
Nineteen-year-old me
P.S. Your thing for mustaches is embarrassing. Please stop buying mustache-shaped things. I'm still finding mustache-shaped Post-Its four years later. Please.
