MY LIFE AS A WIERD TEENAGE GIRL
I'm The Grown-Up Me
It's so hard to keep a diary, I tell you. Ten years ago, I wrote my last entry here as an eighteen-year-old. Now, I am writing as a twenty-eight-year old. If only I could, I'd just hug my eighteen-year-old self and tell her how proud I am of her. She'd be proud of me, of course. But she'll never know what I have to go through this nine years. She'd wonder if I really did turn up great. She'd believe that, of course, because after all, I'm her. And for that, I'll have to apologize.
My entire ten years consisted of acts of a mature woman. I had so many failures. But for that I gained strength. I lost friends, but found new ones. The life was hard but I couldn't just reach what my eighteen-year-old expected me to be.