Dear Diary...

Dear Diary,

Wow. It's been decades since I looked at you. 25 years at least. You're looking a bit worse for wear, and the little gold key that stood guard over your secrets has long since disappeared. Nevermind, those locks are even flimsier than the ones on the old travel locks. I just stuck a bobby pin in and it popped right open.

How strange to read about things that seemed so important back then and are so completely meaningless now. Those two girls down the street that made it their life's work to torment you at the bus stop each morning? One didn't get a date until she was nearly 17. The other's parents got divorced and she had to move away. Neither of them were ever even that popular. Maybe that's why they were such bullies.

Oh, and the youth group I wrote about, wondering whether I should join? (I should? You should? How does one write to one's younger self, anyway?) I did join, and I became very active in it, gaining lots of friends, a very active social life, my first trip to Israel (and we all know where that led, much to my parents' dismay), and the complete decaying corruption of my teenage moral fiber (you'd be surprised what some of those kids got up to on some of those retreats). Come to think of it, I wonder how many children are corrupted in the very places that are supposed to be teaching them values...

And that brings me to another thing, self. You're almost at the age, if you're not there already, where you're going to take a temporary leave of your sanity and decide that it would be an adventurous thing to do to try smoking the discarded cigarette butts in the ashtray of Lisa W.'s father's van. For god's sake girl, THINK about it! That is freaking DISGUSTING! Don't do it! And how a revolting experience like that one could end up in 17 years of heavy smoking I'll never understand. You'd think it would have sent you (me?) running as fast as you (I?) could in the other direction. Take it from me, young and inexperienced self. Quitting smoking is HARD. Unbelievably hard. Probably the hardest thing you've ever done. Save yourself a whole lot of anguish and don't bother starting in the first place. Seriously. It's not worth it.

And one more thing before I run away screaming from these annals of preteen angst. (Don't take it personally, there's only so much I can take from the viewpoint of a 38 year old.) This one's important though. It's hang in there, and believe in yourself. Your road is going to have a lot of ups and downs. Growing up, at least the way I did it, is not for the faint of heart. Just be true to yourself, keep a good head on your shoulders, and know that you're going to turn out just fine. Better than fine. So buckle your seat belt, you're in for the ride of your life, kid.

The writing prompt for this week's Sunday Scribblings was "Dear Diary".