A letter from thirteen-year-old you

Hello. This is thirteen-year-old you. You're twenty-five now. I think it's safe to assume you have a job and you've moved out? If not, forward this five more years. Good. Now, I want to tell you to do something: Have an amazing day out. Repeat: An entire day out of the house. Go to the zoo and spend an hour staring at the red pandas. The real ones are cuter than the ones on the Internet. Go to the aquarium too. Go see a movie (in a THEATER, not the living room), and buy a big bucket of extra buttery popcorn. Go to a museum. Check out The Life of Pi at the library and re-read it in all it's survival glory. Then, when it's late and all the things have closed, stargaze. I know it's nice to spend all day watching TV but that's not real life. Real life makes you drop to bed, tired as can be, but unable to fall asleep because you're still replaying the day in your mind. I don't know if you remember, but this is what I've dreamed of in my childhood days of no money, car, library card, or freedom. If you don't have enough money, save up. Please. Remember what real life is. Live a life that you can be proud of. Even on your days in you can write the books I've dreamed of, sew the dresses I've dreamed of, bake the cakes I've dreamed of. And there is so much to do if you live alone: Build a pillow fort using all the pillows in the house. Run through the halls singing your favorite songs with no reason and no shame. Play "the floor is lava". You are you and this is LIFE. Go live it.