Dear High School Self,
Look at yourself for a minute. Seriously, just look at this picture. You hate this picture, and I don't understand why you hate it. You are gorgeous. Your hair looks great. You just got your braces off and your teeth look better than ever. Your eyes look bright and happy. You look so good when you smile.
Probably should clean your room, though.
When people compliment you, you think they are just saying nice things to be polite. You don't understand why people like you or why guys crush on you. You feel ugly most of the time, inside and out.
I'm 25, and now that we have some years between us, I want to tell you how I feel about you. I hate that you hate getting your picture taken. Case in point: prom night. You probably looked slammin', but no one will ever know because there are no photos except for this awkward one your friend took. When I wanted to show someone a picture of my prom dress, I had nothing.
Thanks for this.
I hate that you hate yourself. You're smart, but you don't think so. You were placed in the GATE program in third grade. You stayed there all through elementary and middle school. In high school you took honors and AP classes. Your grades, test scores and GPA are the numbers that define your existence. You use those numbers to measure your self-worth, and I wish you wouldn't.
Failure is your worst fear, but you have a really skewed sense of what failure even is. Your freshman year, you finished your spring semester with all A's and a B. You locked yourself in your room and cried for days.
At the beginning of your senior year, you got accepted into every college that you applied to-- except for one. You shoved your acceptance letters into a drawer and taped the rejection letter on your bedroom wall. You look at it every day. You hate that letter and you hate yourself. Why couldn't you have taped up your acceptance letters? Why are you letting this one rejection get under your skin so badly? Why are you torturing yourself with it?
Nobody knows about the bottle of vodka hidden under your bed, but I know. You drink at night because it calms you down and helps you sleep. You feel so much pressure to be perfect, but no one else put that pressure on you. You put the pressure on yourself. You can stop any time.
The idea of not being good enough scares you. You let fear stop you from taking risks. I want to tell you that the best things in your life will come from risk. You're going to screw up. You're going to fail. Nobody likes to fail, but you will only appreciate success even more.
I want to tell you that you are enough. You are pretty enough, talented enough, smart enough, good enough. Perfection is not possible, but doing your best is possible. And your best is enough.
You have always been and always will be enough.
XOXO
Rebecca
