Dear Twelve-Year-Old Me,

Happy birthday! Your last preteen year! Next year you have to be perfectly and completely mature. Just kidding.

How do you like your new church? I hope you’re making lots of friends. I know it’s hard, especially since they’re all really good friends with your big brother, but they will like you if you put yourself out there and talk to them. Honest. They’re not mean.

I hope you’re enjoying school. I know that sometimes it can be boring, but put your best into it and it’ll be worth a lot later. Remember, right now school is free. It won’t be later. Make the most of it you can.

Are you still writing? Good! It will have more and more value for you in expressing yourself later, and the more natural it is, the better it will work.

Your sister is getting married this year. That’s going to be weird for you; it always has been weird that she’s so much older than you. But it’s weird for everyone; weird for you parents because she’s their oldest, weird for your siblings because they’re losing her too, and weird for her and her guy because…well…they’re getting married. And that’s pretty freaky when you stop to think about it.

And finally, I know the youth group is small, so you don’t have a lot of choices, but seriously? Even for a twelve-year-old, he’s not that great. And he’s not as cute as you think he is. Back off. Trust me. You have your entire adolescence ahead of you. Slow down. Give it a chance to grow, or you’ll smother it.

Love,

Nineteen-year-old Me