Forgive me for never writing to you. I’ll admit it, I don’t think about you enough, and you’ll probably scold me about that later, but it’s only because I’m really not sure what to say to you.
I have no idea who you are. I have no idea what you do or who your friends are or what you’ve accomplished. You could be reading this letter from 1,000 miles away, from down the street, from your job, or from the tiny pink room that we’re sitting in now. Either way, you’re a mystery to me, and it kind of scares me.
Right now, we’re in our young adult years and almost always confused. We still like pink, chocolate, and remember all the Disney Princess lyrics from when we were younger, but we’re a little less inexperienced, a lot less naiive, and we’ve got a few notches on the belt of life. Still, we have a hard time figuring out what we want and making decisions , and it seems like adulthood is always demanding both from us (as you already know).
People say it’s ok not to have all the answers, so I won’t ask you any questions because something tells me you won’t all of have them either. I won’t give you any deadlines or strict goals to accomplish, because who even knows if you’ll still want those things.
What I will say is that no matter where you are reading this letter from, no matter who you are, what you have or haven’t accomplished, and no matter what you’re new favorite color is, know that I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for making it this far, and I’m proud of whatever path you choose to take, even though I don’t know what path that is. Don’t ever worry about disappointing me or not living up to what we thought we would be, because at the end of the day, you’re me, and I’ll always stand by you.
Anyways, I don’t want to hold you too long, so I’ll let you get back to whatever life you’re living. You probably have lots of advice and life lessons to tell me so write to me when you can, cause I’d really love to hear it. I can’t wait meet to you, or err- be you. See you soon.