Younger Deepti,
Hi. I have no clue what you would want to know from me -- frankly, the thought of anyone wanting anything from me confuses me, especially since I still wholly believe I don't have anything to offer. I'm applying to colleges now, which I'm refusing to talk about (avoidance is a solution, thank you for asking) and only bring up because context is everything.
I bet I'd want to know if I grew up to be *sparkling* and *scintillating* and the kind of person that other people are just magnetically attracted to. Spoiler alert: not yet (though I'm holding out hope for college). For proof, here is a list of the grossly humiliating, so impossibly embarassing things that have happened to me in the six days since senior year began:
1. I had to ask my English teacher for a letter of recommendation, and was paralyzed with such crippling anxiety that I made small talk and backed away slowly from the conversation as soon as I had secured my "yes". My hands are still shaking.
2. My Physics teacher learned of my alter ego, Felicity Pickle, when I registered for WebAssign and realized that my old online textbook account was affiliated with an email I had created in the seventh grade -- back when I was scared of putting my name on the internet. Try explaining 2016 Y2K-esque paranoia to a virtual stranger. It's not cute.
3. I discovered that the club advisor for a club I run had been trying to reach me all summer and hadn't been able to (because of an incorrect email address) and had been left wondering for several weeks where on earth I was and why I wasn't responding. Although we've cleared things up now, I'm truly traumatized that she thought I was missing in action for weeks.
4. I told my World History teacher "not to ask questions" (before I could stop myself) when he walked in on two guys doing... questionable things in class. I was joking, but my deadpan isn't the most obvious in the world.
5. Somebody complimented my handwriting and I said "thank you: it's a gift and a curse," which was a quote from Monk, but of course the poor guy didn't know that because why would he?
6. I rambled on about my English class to a girl who was simply trying to be polite when she asked how my day was going...
And, the list goes on, but let's stop our embarassment there. I think we've seen enough.
Point here being, I think I'm getting worse at general small talk over time, which doesn't feel right. I know this isn't how the rom-com typically goes, and you're probably expecting some witty banter right about now. Sorry. I have gotten better at dressing myself, if that's any consolation. I've aged gracefully out of the sweatpants and free t-shirts phase, and now have an unhealthy obsession with sunscreen because my sister's classical conditioning has finally worked: skin cancer is not a joke, Deepti!
On a more serious note, I know that the only thing any younger version of myself would've wondered is this: does it get better?
And no, it doesn't.
But you do. Every day.
Please don't write me back because that would permanently scar me,
Deepti ;)
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