Thursday, 21 January 2016

A Letter To 12 Year Old Kim

Kim,
You are not the person you imagined and hoped so hard to become at 12 years old, surrounded by your Playboy everything room. You are not tall, expensively dressed with the perfect body and tame manageable hair with a penthouse in New York City. Life is hard, as you find out. When you are 22, almost 23, you are short and average looking, but you are blessed with a spark, a fire, a passion that never goes out, no matter what way the wind blows. Your self belief is beyond anything that you could have ever imagined.
You have tried so hard and failed with flying colours, just to be normal. You wonder and you cry why your stupid self can't just act normal enough to be invited to the other girl's houses and sleepovers. Little do you know, your inability to fit in, sets you apart and it is probably the best thing that could have happened to you You simply were not meant to fit in and be normal, you oddball. So in the spirit of that, enjoy playing in the dirt, digging for worms. Enjoy climbing trees. Enjoy making up imaginary characters and imaginary worlds. Keep working on your ''terrible on purpose'' opera singing, you absolute fruitloop!
I won't lie to you, your teenage years are tougher than you can imagine. You have been sold a false image of what it means to be beautiful. If I remember correctly, you have posters of picture perfect models on your bedroom walls. You forget all about inner beauty, which you have plenty of. You can't permanently change your thick and unruly hair (By the way, when you're 15, the hairdresser finds a naturally formed dreadlock in you hair. You laughed alot!) and you can't hide your freckles. It saddens me to remember that you hated your blue eyes so. You are beautiful.
You will experience two great heartbreaks. When you are 15, a guy will break your heart into pieces. Not all at once, but slowly. 22 year old Kim will simply laugh at fuckboys then bake. Then at 17, your beloved cat Fluffy dies. Fluffy's death will hurt alot more. Speaking of love, when you are 16, the most wonderful guy in the world will sweep you off your feet. I know right now you don't believe yourself worthy of this kind of love. You are. He will make you feel butterflies. He will make you feel safe, happy, secure and loved. Even when you are at your most unlovable. 
You are in Killina now. The first -real- friend you make is the most wonderful person, Cat. She is true blue. You have both seen each other at your best and at your worst. Never have you gone through so much shit with someone. You both come out of the other end the best of friends. Keep her in your life, for life. She is getting married in March! You will never be so proud of her. 
At 22, it's not your priority to be popular, or even liked, like you so crave. You have a small group of friends that are loyal, wonderful and spur you on. You come across so many crappy friends as a teenager. One who assaults you, one who just wanted in your pants, and another who just kept you around to help them with their college work. They are all a blessing is disguise. They make you see who's worth it, that it's always quality over quantity, and they help you love your own company. You truly become your own best friend. 
One of the worst years in your life is when you turn 16. The bullying gets too much. You have been in denial for over a year about your true feelings. You can't look in the mirror without feeling disgust. You pick up a horrible addiction. You have come so close to the end, yet you trod on. You always told yourself 'Things will be okay, things will get better'. The pendulum swings. You still have your moments at 22, but you manage so much better. You are a little warrior. Give yourself some time. Cut yourself some slack. 
Keep up the baking. Keep dedicating Saturdays to baking instead of studying. Keep making scones wrong on purpose to see what happens and why. Keep experimenting. Keep hosting little baking tv shows in your kitchen. You discover a passion for all things baking, something you knew was always really there. Beyond anything you could have possibly dreamed. You are prouder than you care to admit.
It might not seem like it now, but all of the bad experiences (and the good) shape you into a pretty cool person. You are not one bit like you imagined you would be at 22. You're still short (yet deadly) with freckles and thick unruly hair. You're hardheaded, funny, passionate, creative and cocky. You talk too much, nonsense at times. You are surrounded by love. You are excitable and motivated. 
No, you are not the person you thought you would be at 22. And that has made all the difference.
I love you and I will keep trying to make you proud.
Love,
Your 22 year old self.

PS; We totally thought of this idea in the bath!

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