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Letter to my Eighteen-Year-Old Self


Dear Me, I wrote my eighteen year-old self,
Here’s some stuff I wish you had known:

Grad night might seem a bit of a letdown now, but in the future, it’ll be much more interesting, and in forty-odd years, epic in proportion.
Don’t worry that you made the wrong decision; you wound up exactly where you were supposed to be.
Don’t make so much fun of FOBs. Someday you’ll marry one, and her family.
Go ahead, ask her. When she says yes, it’ll be worth the anxiety. When she says no, you won’t die.
Those things you said you’d never do? Some of them you will.
Facial hair? Not a good look for you in your teens. When you’re old, no one will care.
Your parents will start to seem a lot wiser, and then, sadly, not so wise.
You will become your parents, but that’s okay.
Do “it” (your hopes, your dreams, your aspirations) before you lose your nerve.
Things will often happen in a different way than you expected. You will survive.
It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. Life will endure.

Embrace the coming days.
In the end, it will mostly make sense.


-- Ken M., Adult