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Dear me.

Sorry to interrupt your Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle playtime. I know you’re quite busy nowadays. But it’s been thirteen years and I haven’t thought about you in a while, although you’ve been in the back of my mind constantly. I know you always want to grow up and can’t wait to be an adult, but I want you to know a few things that I didn’t know at your age.

You’re not going to grow up to look like Polly Pocket or Barbie. Yes, the media lied to you. You won’t be blonde anymore (it’ll turn to brown), you won’t have the thinnest waist ever mass-produced, and you won’t drive your friends to high school in your pink convertible.

But for the first time ever, I’m not wishing that I was three years older. I’m not wishing to be what I’m not: I am who I want to be. When you get here, you’re going to love it.

So relish your childhood while you can, and I hope it’s not too full of negative thoughts. Remember: you’re my whole future, and I’m your whole future. So learn to love both of us.

Lots of love,

Your Future Self

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