A letter from May 3rd, 2021

Hello, eighteen year old. You're an adult now. God, I wish I were an adult. I'm a thirteen year old who already makes jokes about sewerslide and no one even bats an eye. I'm so lonely. But I've come to accept that. I hope that maybe now you have great friends, that your family listen, that you have good plans. Oh, and I hope you have a car. A nice, dark one, maybe with some integrated gadgets. I don't know, you'll figure something out. I know you will. You usually do. Maybe you have a boyfriend or girlfriend. Or maybe a partner! I'll probably forget I even wrote this, since five years is a god**** long time, but I just want to know if I've changed. Please tell me you have a better relationship with food and that you're confident. If you're any sort of ugly I'll come into the future and rip your face off xxx. Let's hope those social anxiety and body dysmorphia of yours go away. It's hell to live with. Do you have money, or are you broke asf? Tell me everything. I want to know what happens to the messed up, scared, alone shipwreck that is me. The future scares me. I hope it's working out for you. I cry as I write this, but I just want you to be okay. I want you to be the girl I want to be. A reminder that you're loved. You'd be missed, I swear. And I know you feel like hell but we'll get through it. We'll get through it together. There's so much I want to say. There's so many questions I'd ask so just rant. You're an adult. And I bet you you're cool. Please be okay. I know what it's like for the "strong" one. She's never offered a hand and just covers it up with a smile or a grin or humour or sarcasm. But the real ones will love you for who you are. I dunno if you're still with the same people you're friends with now, but let's face it: you're still Blanka. Hopefully that bigass bauble-looking nose has gotten smaller. Hopefully you've lost weight. Actually, maybe not. Maybe the bully in your head has gone. I'd ask so many more things, but it's 10:30 and I still wanna do some other stuff before I go to bed. I love you, stay strong. For me. For the dog. Oh and you still haven't finished your "outliving" list yet, there's still a bunch of awful celebrities you need to live longer than, okay? Please. You can be cool sometimes. Stay, my dear.