Over the past 2 months or so, I’ve upped my nerd factor and have become an avid reader of Ellyn Spragins “What I Know Now” series. It’s because I’m all into inspirational shit now, hoping that absolutely anyone, from a novelist to my advisors to my dope ass comm professor, can dish out some last minute advice before I head into the big bad world.
Anyhoo, the premise of these books is that famous women write letters to their younger selves, now that they are grown up and know a thing or two about life.
Now, that my undergrad career is drawing to a close and I’m surrounded by graduation rhetoric, I think it’s only fitting to write a letter of my own. Usually, the letters begin with a bio of the person (you don’t need that from me, I’m not that cool) followed by giving some sort of context as to why they are writing to themselves at a particular age.
So, I’m opting to write to myself during the second semester of my freshman year of college, when I was convinced I was only average-looking and boys would never notice me. (Yes, I was once that pathetic.)
Dear Tyece,
You’ve traded in your pumps for plain colored t-shirts because you believe that’s what college kids wear. Without being adorned in matchy outfits everyday, you’ve convinced yourself that you’re just not that cute and getting attention from the opposite sex isn’t going to happen.
I’m sorry…what are you smoking?
I’m not going to tell you that you’re beautiful. Not going to tell you that your sharp tongue, quick wit, love for libraries, and Laker fandom are a good complement to the outside things God gave you that you have absolutley no control over. I’m not going to tell you those things because only over time, through highs and heartaches, will you come to realize this. Then, you’ll start to like yourself. And, then, with some hard work, you’ll love yourself.
And, so, around your sophomore year, when you start wearing 5 dollar aqua colored keds from Walmart and spraying something called “Very Sexy Hot” (which will become your favorite scent), that love you have for yourself will radiate. And, guys will take notice. You’ll make mistakes along the way and think too hard and long about situations that just don’t matter. You’ll fall in love with someone, convinced that you two are meant to be together forever, only to find out that your convictions were not quite on target. And, in a few years, when you’re a big bad senior, you’ll make a host of spontaneous and questionable decisions with men whose names you probably won’t recall in five years.
Do it. Absolutely all of it. And, if you could return and do it again, do it the exact same way.
Because every tear you’ll cry over someone who isn’t that important, every song you’ll put on repeat when someone fucks with your emotions, every conversation you have with someone whom you won’t care about in a week, every date you go on with someone who will break your heart, and every night you spend with someone who, the next morning, you’ll only half remember, will build you. These are the moments that will start to shape your views about love and how ridiculous, life-consuming, and wonderful it is. These are the moments that will teach you that people do not deserve judgment for their life choices because behind every one-night stand, there’s a genuine person who is a conglomeration of so many other important things. These are the moments you’ll relish, relive, and never want to relinquish.
You are so much more than average. I just can’t wait for the moment when you realize it. Don’t worry…it’s coming.
Love freely,
tY
