Let's have a heart-to-heart.

Dear sixteen year old self,

First off, I want to apologize. Your life isn't going to work out the way you're dreaming of.  Right now, you're aspiring to ditch this place and move to California so you can try to get into doing makeup for horror films.
    I have no idea how you thought it was feasible. You're working at Target, and you're wasting your money on whatever you can. You're not really paying attention in school.
You know what?  It happens.  You're a dumbshit teenager, and that's okay.

Things aren't that bad right now. You don't really need to whine so much. Your hormones are going nuts, I know.  Everything seems magnified, because of it. Your parents are on your case because they know you're awesome, and they want you to live up to your potential.
Your best friend moved away, and how dare her dad do this because you two are so annoyingly inseparable and how are you going to live without her?! She's become a rock star, so it actually worked out really well.
  Honestly, no one gives a shit what your classmates think. I know you're starting to realize that. You're gonna get your high school yearbooks back, years from now, and you're gonna wonder who the hell signed them. You've got a lot of people declaring their adoration for you, along with a generic "HAGS," and you won't have a clue who the fuck they were.


Broaden your musical horizons, PLEASE. You'll be so much happier and well-rounded when you finally do.

You're putting so much unnecessary pressure on yourself. You're trying to be perfect in all the wrong ways. When your art teacher says that you're shrinking, she means that you're obviously being an idiot about it. I'm still trying to figure out how or why that happened, but don't let it take control of your life. You're so much better than that.

I know you're having a hard time with what happened to Tasha, too. Right now, that wound is very raw, and I know it hurts. All I can say about that, is that it'll get better over time, and that this will help put a lot of things into perspective for you. Suicide sucks, and that's the best I can put it. Now you truly know. It's okay, sweetheart. You will be alright. Trust me.

Please try to apply yourself in your interests. Push yourself harder, and don't give up. You don't get to Carnegie Hall without practicing, even if you suck at first.

You're going to kiss a few figurative frogs, and you're going to come across the poisonous kind, too.  It happens, but you can't be an idiot about it. Don't settle for any dickhead that will give you attention because you crave validation. Stay the fuck away from any man who doesn't respect you. You will meet your prince, trust me. You know how you have that 'type' that you've always been looking for, but where the hell can you find that kind of guy because everyone else sucks? Guess what? He's real, and he loves you, too.

I'm sorry to drop this bomb on you, but you're going to have a baby in a couple of years. You never would have guessed it, I know. She will certainly complicate things, and she will change your life forever. But she is amazing, just like you are. She even does that weird squinty eye thing you sometimes do when you smile, only she makes it look cuter.  You're going to do a lot of growing up in a short period of time. I don't want to give too much away, but please be safe. Please be smart.

Also, I'm sorry that you're gonna be living in this same city you've spent your whole life in for a while. Shit happens.

There are some really cool things about being an adult, too.
Your parents are going to be your closest allies. Seriously, they're cool as shit. You already know that, but yeah. Your brain is kind of derp right now.
Having the freedom to do what you want is pretty baller, too.  It won't be the kind of freedom you think you're going to have, though. You don't want to end up like one of those shallow, vapid whores, anyway. You already know that. You're going to find great joy in doing simple things, like being snuggled up on the couch, turning your phone off, and Netflixing.

I know I've given all of this advice to you in vain, because you're gonna do what you're gonna do, anyway.

And you know what?

If you didn't, you wouldn't be the person I am today.  You're kinda cool, and you need to hear it.

Love,
Me

come on. post something.

I've been wrestling with the idea of a new post, but I couldn't think of anything worthy to write.  Should I write about how the media is enforcing heinous gender stereotypes?  How about proper internet etiquette, because it seems like that's been slipping? (Oh yeah.  People are dicks.  It's always been like that.)  Maybe someone will pay attention if I post about my uneducated view on an important social issue.  I've got it!  Maybe I'll

       uh

well, fuck. 

 I have no clue.  But I want to post something. So what'll it be there, slick?  Open up that brain of yours and spew some shit out.

So I look to the amazing internet for guidance.  

Think for me, internet.  Because I apparently can't.  

I wasn't too impressed with the help I got.  The writing prompts I came across were reminiscent of MySpace surveys.  No, thank you.

and then I thought about it.

spew some shit out.

It doesn't need to make sense.  Because fuck you, that's why.  And that is what mind vomit is.

creativity crisis.

While I'm doing this whole reconstruction of myself, I'm trying to think of things I'm good at, and I really can't think of anything worthwhile. 

People tell me I'm creative, but I never figured out how they would come to that conclusion.  I used to believe that I was a creative person.  Then I got to thinking- Did I lose my creativity, or did I even have it in the first place?  I was never amazing in art class.  I can't draw or paint.  My clothes are plain.  I don't have an ounce of musical talent.  I'm not even super witty.

I also put humor in the creativity category, because well, why not?  I really try to associate myself with funny people so that way I have more opportunities to laugh.  I was recently told that I'm not funny.  I took it a bit personally, probably because he said what I was thinking.  (My self-esteem isn't high yet.  Don't judge me.)  All my life, people have been telling me I'm funny.  Once I hear otherwise, my brain goes to panic mode.  How long have I been unfunny for?  Do other people think this, but are too nice to tell me?  WHY AM I SO AWKWARD?!?!?!?!
Shut the fuck up, Katie.

I have such a high value on the characteristic of creativity, and I'm quite envious of those who exude this quality. 

It's like in American Beauty, where Mena Suvari's character fears being ordinary.  Kevin Spacey's character validates her because he wants to get in her pants, obviously.  We all know that she had no personality, and was just a shallow, vapid whore. 
I don't want to be like that.

I fear being ordinary/boring.  I'm afraid of having no talent for something amazing.  Yeah, I wanna be like a goddamned special little snowflake.  Maybe I can just trick myself into thinking I'm all artsy and cool, when I'm really not.  Just like a hipster, of course. 

"The goal isn't to live forever- It's to create something that will."  I don't know who the fuck coined that phrase, and I'm too lazy to go through all the effort to open up a new tab in my browser to find out.  Don't you fucking judge me.