Dear 11-year-old self,

As I found myself reminiscing over the memories and nightmares stemming from a whirlpool I have now been yanked out of, one which I lovingly termed Junior High School, a notification popped up on my phone, a mere number of days after my 15^th birthday. “Write a letter back to your 11-year-old self” was the event set, created on April 10, 2021, the day when you published your very first blog after months of deliberation, apprehension and stringent editing, courtesy of Mum. So, here I am today, your older, wiser, more experienced and far more scarred persona, writing a letter back to you, answering all those questions you had no answers for back then. Consider it a testament to the time capsule you created, a reminder of the straightforward, joyful childhood I wish I could return to. Guess what, it’s now three years until your graduation, darling, and time is slipping away like a flowing river, never slowing down.

Remember?

https://miliscape.com/dear-15-year-old-self/

You’re right, I have come a long way surviving Primary. But I don’t think I knew what surviving really meant until I hit Year 7, realising that I genuinely needed to try hard and work harder, striving towards something better every single day. Mars? I actually despise Mars now. I guess that’s somewhat your fault, because the amount of candy you ate as a child put me off today. Besides, I play Badminton tournaments and train now, and even adopted a diet and workout plan, cutting down on chocolate, chips and soft drinks alike. Don’t worry though, your new love lies in guacamole and burritos, tremendous progress from when you’d gag at the sight of a spinach leaf.

Oh, it was terrifying when things didn’t go as planned, but you learnt to manage your time, to prioritise and organise, something you do to calm your mind now. Isn’t that worlds away from how impulsive you were back then? You made MULTIPLE mistakes when you failed to plan, and then finally downloaded an app and realised that following a schedule and steps really isn’t as hard as it seems. Your tears…still flow in never-ending torrents, but that’s okay. I mean, I have every right with the mood swings and the cramps and the endless tonnes of schoolwork. On the bright side, your complaints went down, and you decided that you clearly couldn’t avoid studying, so there was no point in wasting time throwing a temper tantrum. Instead, you proved to Mum and Dad that you could handle your academics and be a good listener, bringing home multiple achievement awards, topping subjects and gaining one clear focus. The outbursts still occur, what with your short temper and the clashing perspectives that come with the generational difference, but I learnt to manage them(still working on it!)and even began journalling consistently to control my emotions.

Funny thing, guess who’s an aspiring neurosurgeon now? That’s right, me…or you, really. The pronoun usage in this letter is all over the place…

Yeah, you don’t faint at the sight of small wounds anymore. Instead, you’ve conducted dissections on brains, wings and hearts, you look at injuries as a hobby now while reading books on medicine and anything and everything related to biology and chemistry, you’ve had five vaccines on the same day, twisted your ankles to the point of breakage and even had a serrated butter knife embedded in your finger, which gave you a scar. But every cloud has a silver lining, because the scar looks cool.

Covid was scary back then, as all epidemics are when they first hit the world. You just contracted it for the 7^th time though, and suffice to say, the vaccine was highly effective. It’s just like the flu now! The world, as always, is threatened by thousands of diseases, something that will never change.

Your blog has grown so much more, and I will continue to bring it to even greater heights. Today, each post receives hundreds to thousands, to even ten thousands of views, all credited to your perseverance and Dad’s incessant persuasion back then. You’ve reached out to so many readers and most importantly, run a website that people want to read, the entire goal of that leap of faith years ago. It went through ups and downs, and many times, you wanted to give it all up, but you stuck through, and now, are working even harder to give it the recognition it deserves.

Spoiler: they did find out.

Em’s turned into an absolute devil, smashing into the double digits in two years. She’s entered her pre-pre-teen phase in full intensity, even writing a blog that completely defamed me and published it on this very website. The audacity keeps growing and growing and GROWING. She’s one of your biggest supporters though, rooting for you and offering a shoulder to cry on, despite the fact that she’s so much younger than you. You loved her fiercely back then, and that is something that will never change. I know I can talk to her no matter what, even after the arguments and the fighting and the ignorance, in the end, our bond wins out and we always end up by each other’s side yet again. It’s almost a convection current of emotion at this point.

On a sadder note, our guppy passed away, and after three more tries, you realised that fishes are definitely not the pets you want to keep. Mum hasn’t succumbed to our pleas yet, so I simply vowed to adopt two Golden Retrievers in the future. I also threatened to leave them at Mum’s house when I travelled, as punishment for all the years she made us suffer without a pet.

New things?

Well, there is always the good and the bad.

A whole lot of events happened, ones that broke your heart and ones that pulled you back up again, the ebb and flow of life that kept pushing you forward. You fell out with so many people, facing betrayal, rearranging your ideals of relationships and realising who your true friends were. You found a huge, supportive, loyal group of close friends in the present, and have the most gorgeous, most hilarious, most loving best friends you’ve ever had after raising your standards when it came to friendship. You got accepted into a school as part of twenty-five out of hundreds, acing the interview and the application process, a long way from the scholarship exam you basically failed in Year 6. You switched from an introvert to an extrovert after moving a country and three schools in three years, something unimaginable when you were a short, terrified 11-year-old.

The short part hasn’t changed, although you’ve embraced your height and accepted your fate. It’s not our fault genetics makes up 80% of height anyway.

Your confidence grew, you performed in front of multiple audiences after ACTIVELY PICKING DRAMA AS A SUBJECT WHAT ON EARTH, you won sporting competitions, especially in badminton and swimming, and most of all, improved your writing skills tremendously. Like, I can see the change as a literal gradient across the years.

Nature is your best friend now, and you find the most inspiration when you’re sitting in the backyard, enjoying the breeze brushing through your hair during the scorching summer months (yes, we live in a country with seasons now. And we go on road trips every week, and two hours in a car is now a short period of time for you!). On the note of hair, you prefer short hair now, and instead of Mum having to force you, you force her to cut it for you instead. Now, that’s a polar opposite, isn’t it?

You also went on camp. Yes, camp. Alone. Without Mum and Dad. And you’ll do that every year, because you absolutely loved this one.

Camp was in the bush too, did I mention?

On a more painful note, you now have periods, so that really sucks. The list of symptoms for you, unfairly, goes on and on and on, a never-ending spiel of irritation. At least it brings growth spurts along with it.

You’ve liked guys, a strange change from the Boys vs Girls and the “we hate males” motto that most young girls in our school embodied. You’ve faced confessions and have had your emotions played with a hell lot recently, yet have firmly decided that you will never, ever agree to being in a real relationship until you succeed after Year 12. Struggling now, after all, would ensure you don’t struggle later, when it really matters.

You’ve come so far, and you have so much more left to do…

I guess, the only advice I have left to give you is one, don’t hate Business Studies because you currently love Commerce. That proves that having an open mind is important. Two, stop biting your nails because in the future, you will be diagnosed with an iron and a Vitamin D deficiency and you nibbling away like the fat chipmunk you are isn’t helping me do my nails presently. Three, please listen to Mum when it comes to the short hair because sweat on your neck under your hair is the most disgusting feeling ever, so save us both that torture from an earlier age. And finally, live your life well. It’s only a couple years till you’re in high school anyway. Be happy, be grateful, and most of all, be ambitious and focussed, never losing that sincerity you’ve held on to for so long, so tightly.

And that’s about it. Four years’ worth of life, right here for you. I summed up about 48 months just for you. Will you finally be grateful and stop eating SO MUCH CHOCOLATE?

Love,

Your 15-year-old self.