For the third year in a row, I’ve decided to try my hand at NaBloPoMo. It just wouldn’t feel like November without the added pressure to come up with something to write every day for thirty days. Today’s post was inspired by a prompt I found on The Daily Post. Expect a sequel in the near future.
Dear Fourteen-Year-Old Kristine,
Jeepers, your life sucks right now. No, really. You have every right to feel bitchy. You couldn’t pay me to take your place right now and you have a lot more money than I do. Ninth grade is pretty much as bad as it gets. Even the dark period you’ll go through in your mid-twenties won’t compare to the crappiness that is the final year of junior high. Wallow all you want. Slam that door if it helps you feel better. It probably won’t but do it anyway.
I am not going to ask anything of you because you have enough on your mind as it is. School, friends, that jackass in science class who likes to make you hate yourself even more. I am also not going to tell you that it gets better because I think you know that already. All you want is to finish out the year and get the heck out of there. Don’t worry, you will. But it’s going to be brutal for a little while longer.
Luckily, I don’t have many regrets about the year 1996. Maybe you listen to a little too much Celine Dion, maybe you read too many vampire novels, but ultimately you don’t do anything to warrant a lot of cringing. Even your hair is okay. Actually, it’s not that different than it is now, at thirty.
Maybe that isn’t what you want to hear. Yeah, you dress like a thirty-year-old. You probably guessed as much.
There is a lot of advice I could offer but I know you hate that, even when it comes from yourself. You know those jerks aren’t worth anything and they bother you anyway. You know you are going to pass that math class and yet you freak out about it anyway. You spend too much time in your room and not enough time having fun. You know this but you don’t know how to change it. It’s okay. I just wish you knew you didn’t have to be so bored all the time.
I guess I lied when I said I have no regrets about being fourteen. There is one.
I bet you haven’t looked at the above picture in a long time, if ever. That is your dog, Nikita, as a puppy, and you, as a little kid. Back then you used to spend a lot more time with her than you do now.
I know, I know, I know. You’re busy. Walking her is a chore. You have a life. The thing is, you really like dogs. More than you might realize right now. One day you are going to remember this and wish you’d paid more attention sooner. Perhaps if you had, you would have sought out a different career path back when you still had the ambition.
Nikita is, what, eight years old right now? She has many more years to live but not as many as you would like. Instead of pouting, why don’t you take her to the park? You never know, it might make you feel better. If you like you can pout and walk at the same time. But trust me, you won’t regret it. In fact, you might even want to do it again tomorrow.
C’mon. Just once. For me?
Your forever friend