My Dearest Eighteen-Year-Old Self,
I shall not lie to you and say that the next five years of your (our) life wouldn’t be tough. It’s only going to be tough because I haven’t seen any tougher yet.
You’re going to get your heart broken a couple of times. You’re going to lose loved ones. You’re going to spend months in darkness. You’re going to cry every night for years. You’re going to stop eating and suffer from depression. You’ll spend months unable to taste food. You’re going to get anemia and vitamin deficiency. You’re going to feel like an eighty-year-old. You’re going to be stressed like never before. You’ll never be more confused. You’ll feel numb for years. You’ll never be less religious. And homesickness will slap you hard on the face.
My dearest younger self,
In spite of the darkness that you’ll pass through, you’ll meet the greatest people you’ll ever know. You’ll become a bit closer to your roots. You’re going to witness your country pass through the most exciting times in its modern history. You’re going to speak out your opinions and stand up for what you believe.
In the next couple of years, you’re going to meet yourself. The better bits and the worse. You’re going to love you and hate you. You’re going to become your own best friend.
But promise me, my dearest younger self, to make use of all the opportunities you get. To not be afraid from dialing the phone, to be less hesitant and more confident in your decisions. Promise me, to break loose from society earlier on, to fight back for your rights and freedom. Promise me, to always believe in yourself. That despite what the mirror tells you, you’re still beautiful and there are people who love you. Promise me, to keep your head high. To believe in your abilities the way you did back in high school. Promise me, to take all your medicine.
Promise me, to love yourself.
Your (almost) Graduate Self.