Common Sense

Dear Eleven Year Old Self,

     I apologize for the extenuated period since I last wrote.  I have attempted to rebuff your presence, but it seems I can do so no longer.  Years of forced repression tend to do that to willpower.  Anyways, I am writing this letter as a source of forthright advice—some may call it criticism—to help you.  Think of it as a free how-to-succeed-in-life manual, but with snarky comments and a lack of positive reinforcement.  I believe John Holmes once stated, “There is no exercise better for the heart than reaching down and lifting people up.”  Therefore, by bringing you down, I am logically exercising my mind (a far more useful organ than the heart).  First order of business, lose the infantile and eccentric hobbies.  Owning a magic kit does not make you Houdini.  Spending your time practicing magic tricks equates to heightened awkwardness and the delusion that “everything will magically be okay.”  Furthermore, please discard the massive piles of rocks in your room.  What would someone intentionally spend money on rocks?  A geology degree does not wait in your near future, and I am fairly certain owning “pet rocks” represents significant psychological issues.  And speaking of rocks, I cannot even begin to comprehend your reasoning behind owning a rocket launcher—I think you know the solution to that dilemma.  Second, drink up on milk.  Hopefully, this will spur your osteoblasts to ossify what you need most: a backbone.  Harboring fear for darkness, for heights, for not doing a homework assignment…things need to change.   Doing one wrong thing, like breaking the law, skipping school, or forgetting your lunchbox, will not bring about the end of the world.  Getting anxious about minute problems makes you hauntingly shallow.  Grow up, crybaby.   Lastly, please—I beg you—purchase a real haircut.   The bowl-cut you “rocked” for eleven years needs to hit the road.   If you had any shred of self-awareness, you would realize you live as a modern day kid in twenty-first century United States, not a reclusive farmer in sixth century China.  In conclusion, if you heed my words of infinite wisdom, you will find little difficulty in the coming six years.   You might even ascend from the status of “unique” to “almost normal.”  What an accomplishment.

Yours Truly,

A Better You