|You in Pisa, 1990. Fashion rule number one: Don't ever wear a fanny pack, for crying out loud.|
Dear Teenage Self:
Okay, here’s the deal. You’re currently sitting in a windowless room in a high school built like a fortress; you’re surrounded by other sweaty teenagers, your anxiety swelling. You feel trapped. You think high school is the worst it’s going to get. Sadly, you’re wrong. Your mistakes are going to get more plentiful, meaningful, and painful as you get older. You have it easy. (No, seriously, don’t laugh.) You’re only 16 and barely have any responsibilities. That Algebra II homework you’re stressing about? Don’t. Worried about dropping out of AP Bio and not even signing up for AP Lit? Forget it. You won’t even remember your grades after you get to college. There is no such thing as a permanent record.