It’s weird being a teenager I feel like I’m not doing it right

It’s nothing like what I’ve heard I don’t feel out of place I’m not awkward I’m not struggling Im not gasping for breath Like they said I would be

It’s weird being a teenager Because I don’t think I really count as one

I’m 15 I’m 12 I’m 13 I’m 17 I’m 23 I’m 15

Is age dysmorphia a thing? I’m so mature when I need to be I’m so young when I feel safe I don’t know how I really act I don’t know who I really am

I know exactly who I am I have the confidence of an Olympian The body of a model The face of a goddess

Stop

That’s too cocky Too confident

Why is confidence bad? Just because no one around me is confident I’m not aloud to be either?

But that’s insulting To me To them Its okay to love myself But I need to do it quietly Otherwise someone might feel bad

I feel bad I lied to you I’m not confident Every time I look in a mirror I want to be different Skinnier Curvier Taller Shorter Smarter Dumber I want to be everything

I’m so tired of being everything I’m exhausted I work And work And work And work And it never gets easier It never feels lighter But it’s so easy So mundane That I really shouldn’t be complaining

I’m only 15 I’m still just a kid

I’m 15 I’m an adult now

I want freedom I want guidance I want someone to tell me what’s wrong with me

There’s nothing wrong with me I’m perfect I’m loved I’m funny I’m pretty I’m smart Why would I be upset?

If I could write a letter to my teenage self I don’t know if it would go to the future Or the past Maybe it would end up in my mailbox in a week I don’t know

I don’t know anything

I know too much

I need to know more

I’m tired of the weight of knowledge

I like my life I hate the world How old am I? Am I really a teenager? Am I real?

At least I look pretty when I suffer

To my teenage self:

I’m sorry. I’m so deeply sorry. I regret putting you through the pain, Only so the thoughts would be tame. I’m sorry for selling you to the voices, The ones that speak words of “Eat less” “They will notice” “You’ll never be beautiful” I’m sorry for leading you to addiction, One that will remain within always. I’m sorry for being selfish and cruel; You were only a girl Trying to live in a world Where you found no love. I’m sorry for destroying the only body you have. Forgive me if you will, but I know I’ll never forgive myself.

~ me

To my teenage self. Life seems like it should be one way but isn’t always the way you think it should be. Remember to trust yourself no matter what you have been told. You are unique and should be loved no matter who you are. Family love is sometimes conditional. Life is a jumble, a puzzle. Find the pieces that fit and work with them to make your puzzle. It’s ok to look for help. Be the person you’re meant to be, even if it goes against your upbringing. You can’t fully let someone else love you until you love yourself. Someone else’s love shouldn’t define you.

To my teenage self. You’re not too fat, you’re not ugly, you’re not stupid or dumb. Focus on yourself man. Be nicer to your parents.

to my teenage self, you can be amazing, don’t put your skills on a shelf. I am you, I have the future view. your sweetness may seem like a weakness but it brightens your shine. because all in due time, they will bask in your light, and you will be alright. because your are strong and you belong. you are stunning in every way you are not nothing, no matter what they say. so, my dear, set your sights on the horizon, you will not frighten. I do not lie, good luck and goodbye

What’s up me. Not gonna lie I’m still a teen. So yeah keep up the work. And don’t be a dick.

Happiness comes from within and not from those around you. Understand that life doesn’t owe you anything and regardless of how good you are at something, you still need to work harder than everyone else. Dedicate your life to what matters to you. Don’t waste chances. Aim high and behave like your future children are watching you.

To My Teenage Self,

So you have a huge decision to make. It is going to be life changing no matter what you choose to do. I can only tell you now that whatever you choose you were right. There isn’t really much more that I can tell you but I am so proud of you, no teenager wants to be put in that situation and given ‘that’ decision. It’s hard I know. But I know whatever you choose you are going to be happy and that makes me happy.

You already know the pros and cons that come with it but I honestly think that you should ignore the cons and follow your heart but also using your head. Don’t be stupid and ignore both of them. No teenager I know would be doing what you are doing right now. Stop debating with yourself. Stop punishing yourself. Don’t feel bad that you got this opportunity and your friends and family are being forced to watch from the sidelines. I bet you that they are more proud than you think. But you can’t base your decision on your friends and family and their opinions. You do what you want.

Follow your heart and yours only. This is your decision. This is your life. This is your happiness.

Russell was born in a public toilet addicted to heroin. His mother was an alcoholic, drug addict and prostitute who didn’t even know she was pregnant. The one saving grace was that he didn’t have HIV and may eventually grow up healthy. After the paramedics had fished him from the bowl and resuscitated him, he recovered well and was finally found foster parents who weren’t so proud to be put off by his mother’s shortcomings.

His new family were childless sheep farmers in the wet, grey depths of Lancashire. They were loving in so much as time allowed. As soon as he was able, Russell was set to work. That had been the main reason for his adoption, one which his parents conveniently failed to mention to the agency.

Russell knew no different. Never even knew he was adopted. His parents thought it better that way. He grafted on the farm, scraped through school until he was sixteen and continued on as he had done since childhood. The furthest he’d ever been was to Blackpool to see the lights, eat fish and chips and play in the amusement arcades. It was another world to him. The nearest town was fifteen miles away and he only went if there was no other choice. His only romantic encounter was a quick fondle and fumbled fuck with the school slapper in some rhododendrons.

Russell wasn’t interested. His passion was for his Lancashire countryside. The patch-worked fields, random windswept copses and the open far flung fells with low grey skies were his beauty and his pleasure. He took solace in it and even the bleakest, frostbite frozen day comforted and inspired him.

He painted. His paintings were bold, broad and unique. He had had little artistic influences and so developed a style of his own. A style like no other. Huge canvasses captured the open expanses, painted swiftly in thick impasto that was neither impressionistic, modern or other. But the art he created was beautiful and mesmerizing.

When the vet came on a routine visit Russell led him into the farmhouse to fill in some paperwork he was gobsmacked. Russell’s paintings hung proudly from every wall and he was visibly embarrassed answering the vet’s rushed question that he was the painter. Russell wasn’t keen to sell any despite the vet’s insistences, they were his treasures.

The vet returned early the next day. With a huge effort and coaxing Russell finally agreed to have an exhibition. It was a triumph. News spread throughout the art world and beyond. Collectors clambered, galleries begged. Eventually, just for peace and to get back to his normality, Russell conceded.

The rest, as they say, is history.

To My Teenage Self, Relax. Stop comparing yourself to others. Have more sex, lots of it, with many people... But ALWAYS use a condom. Be honest with yourself. Be kind to yourself. Think of the way your actions effect the people around you. Love your family, not matter what.