This is a bit of a love letter, a warning, and a gentle roast of myself. There are so many things I wish I could tell my younger self. Not because she was doing things wrong. It’s just that she was doing the absolute most with no information. She was a tiny chaos engine powered by vibes, attitude, know it all, caffeine, and the belief that everyone else had a secret manual to life. Honestly, she wouldn’t have listened to me. She would’ve nodded politely, said something like “omg that’s so true” and then sprinted directly into doing what she wanted anyways which just happened to be a mistake. However, she did it with enthusiasm, the grace of a drunk giraffe, and a coupon code. All that being said, here’s what I would have told her.

You don’t need to be the chill girl. You’re not chill. It’s fine.

You’re a warm beverage in the world of iced coffee. You’re a cardigan with opinions. You’re dramatic in a charming way. Stop trying to be breezy because you’re a whole weather system. You spend too much time trying to seem chill and it takes a toll on you. F that.

If you have to rehearse the text 14 times, he’s not your person.

Your soulmate will not require a script, a PowerPoint, or a Google Doc titled “Drafts I Will Never Send.” If you can’t openly talk to him and say exactly what you think. He’s not worth it. Move on and up. There’s someone out there you’ll find that is just that into you.

You’re not “too sensitive.” You’re just paying attention.

Your feelings aren’t inconvenient. They’re data points. They’re little emotional push notifications. They’re your superpower, even when they feel like a software glitch. Important people in your life will tell you this. Don’t believe it. You were always right in how you felt. Having a problem with someone being a outright as*hole is perfectly normal. They want you to be the problem, so they don’t have to accept how crappy they’ve treated you. Then they’ll disappear when you need them most later in life. Let them. You will do great things when you come to terms with that.

You don’t need to earn rest. You’re allowed to just… stop.

You don’t have to finish the entire to‑do list before you’re allowed to sit down. You don’t need to “deserve” a break. You’re a human, not a productivity app. Take a nap. Sleep in. You’re not lazy because you slept past 9am. You’re not lazy because you wanted to lay on the couch and watch tv. Also, admit you feel asleep on the couch watching tv lol who cares.

Your weird little hobbies will save you someday.

The journaling. The doodling. The late‑night Pinterest boards. The way you rearrange your desk when your soul feels crooked. Those things become lifelines. Keep them. Eventually they’ll turn into a huge opportunity and a brand new career.

The people who love you will love you even when you’re messy.

You don’t have to be the polished version of yourself to be worthy. You can be undone, unhinged, unmoisturized, and still deeply loved. You don’t have to earn love. The people who love you will just love you and it’ll feel so easy. This is probably your biggest issue in life that it takes years and a really scary situation to get over. Once you do you’ll feel free and you’ll get completely sober. Almost three years now and it’s never felt better and you’ve never been more in control of your emotions.

You don’t have to stay anywhere that shrinks you.

Not jobs. Not friendships. Not relationships. Not expectations you outgrew three versions ago. You’re allowed to leave. You’re allowed to expand. This is something I wished I learned much earlier. It would have saved you a lot of heartbreaks.

You’re not behind. You’re maybe late. You’re not failing.

You’re just… living. Life is not a race, it’s a very chaotic scavenger hunt where half the clues are smudged and the prize is emotional stability.

You become someone you’re proud of.

Not perfect. Not effortless. Not always calm. But grounded. Softer. Braver. More yourself than you’ve ever been. Completely independent of anyone but yourself. You figure it out and you end up really liking it.

Stop trying to predict the plot twist. Life is not foreshadowing for you.

You are not the main character in a prestige drama. You do not need to analyze every text message like it’s a Shakespearean monologue. Sometimes things just… happen. Wild I know.

You don’t have to be good at everything you try.

You’re allowed to be mediocre. You’re allowed to be terrible. You’re allowed to knit a scarf that looks like a long, confused rectangle. Joy over mastery. This would save you a lot of heartbreak.

Your intuition is not “being dramatic.” It’s literally correct 87.78 % of the time.

When your stomach whispers “no,” it means no. When it whispers “run,” it means run. When it whispers, “maybe don’t date him,” it means absolutely do not date him.

You’re not responsible for managing everyone else’s emotions.

You are not the emotional concierge of the universe. You don’t need to hand out warm towels and validation to every person who sighs near you. You do not need to manage and protect everyone else’s feelings. It drains you so completely.

You don’t have to respond immediately. To anything. Ever.

Texts. Emails. Invitations. Vibes. You’re allowed to pause. You’re allowed to think. You’re allowed to not be a 24/7 customer service representative for your own life.

You don’t need a five‑year plan. You need snacks and a nap.

Every time you try to map out your entire future, the universe laughed and rearranged the furniture. Rest. Hydrate. Try again later.

You’re allowed to outgrow people without hating them.

Some people are chapters, not trilogies. You don’t need a villain arc to move on.

You don’t have to fix everything.

Not every problem is your quest. Not every situation is your responsibility. Not every sinking ship needs your tiny bucket.

You’re allowed to take up space even when you’re unsure.

Confidence is not a prerequisite for showing up. Half the time, the people who look confident are just pretending harder.

You’ll do things you once thought were impossible. You’ll heal from things you thought would break you. If I could sit across from my younger self, the girl who thought she had to earn her place in every room, who apologized for taking up space, who thought being loved meant being easy. You don’t have to become someone else to be worthy of family or love. You just have to be someone you would want to come home to. All that being said…I know younger me would probably just shrug and say, “okay but what do you think about bangs?” and wander off in her ADHD haze.

XOXO,

Savi Monroe