This is the letter I'm writing to the 10 years younger-self.
Hey you.
Things are going to get real rough.
The pain that you feel now is going to get worse.
Horribly worst.
And you will think you wouldn't survive.
You'd think that suicide would be your ultimatum.
But no.
The fortune teller was right.
Things do get better once you hit 30.
Not fairytale better, but believe me, you'd be grateful.
You'd start doing what other ordinary people are doing.
You'd start enjoying what other ordinary people are enjoying.
You'd begin to believe that you can be better, do better.
And you really will.
The main source of depression was because you cared too much what your family said and thought of you.
You had wrongfully placed your identity with your family, nothing wrong with that,
but girl, you know your family.
You can't put your self-worth based on your relationship with them.
That almost killed you.
Let's not go near that mentality ever again.
10 years later, you will remind me again that not only what my family thinks shouldn't matter,
no one else's does.
Babe,
Find and listen to your own voice.
You will be ok.
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