Please be smarter.
Don't fall for an asshole. Don't let people walk all over you. Stand up for yourself. Don't let anyone put you down.
You're weak right now. The weakest you've ever been.
The breakup with Shawn has pushed you to your limits for many, many nights, but you're still breathing. You're getting through this. You'll be okay, we'll be okay.
Please tell me you've found a nice guy. Please be in a happy, healthy relationship.
Remember who you were, remember me. The sad girl who cries every night. The girl no one really noticed. The girl who was too nice to stand up for herself.
Please be better. Please love who you are. Please have the same amazing taste in music.
Things are hard for me, but I'm hoping, for you, they're better.
Please tell me you didn't cut your hair---that's not something we'd even consider. Please tell me you have better skin? Here's to hoping.
Please tell me you moved out and that dad's not in our life?
How are Nina and Colby? Please tell me you're an amazing big sister and that they adore you (us).
Please . . . tell me that I'm still inside you somewhere, this logical, sensible part of us. The writer, the reader, the girl who just wants to make everyone happy. Because . . . I don't want you to be completely different. I hope you remember typing this, and I hope you are still me. I hope you are the better version of me that I can't achieve right now.
I hope you're over Shawn, and moving on, and I hope you're so confident, and so wonderful---I hope you're finally comfortable in your own skin.
But I also hope you aren't a jerk. Please don't be conceited, because we were never that person.
Please, be the best of both of us. Please . . . remember being 17.
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