Dear Younger Me,

Hey there! It’s me, well, sort of! I’m writing to you from the future, and I want to share something really important about happiness that I’ve learned along the way.

First off, I want you to know that it’s perfectly okay to experience ups and downs. Life is a rollercoaster, and those little twists and turns can feel overwhelming sometimes. But here’s the secret I wish someone had told me: happiness isn’t a grand destination you reach when you grow up or achieve a particular goal. It’s much more about the little things you encounter every day.

Think about those moments when you’re playing your favorite game, sharing laughter with friends, or simply enjoying a beautiful sunset. These small moments are often where the truest happiness lies. It’s the warm cup of cocoa on a cold day, the smell of fresh-baked cookies, or a long chat with someone you care about. Remember to savor those little joys, because they add up to create a beautiful life.

And while I know that growing up might seem exciting, I caution you not to rush it. There’s something precious about this time you’re in, and the world has so much to teach you if you take it slow. Relish the days spent exploring interests, learning new things, and being present in every moment. Once you grow up, you might find that the pace of life speeds up, and it becomes harder to enjoy those small pleasures.

So, take a deep breath and embrace where you are right now. Focus on the little moments, treasure your relationships, and remember that happiness is often found in the simplest things. It’s not about having everything figured out or chasing after big dreams; it’s about being content with who you are and what you have in the present.

Always be kind to yourself and cherish each day. Happiness is a journey, not a race.

With all my love,

Your Future Self

Hello little one.
The world is a strange place full of strange people and strange situations. Not everything will be beautiful, not everyone will be kind. I know you think the world is full of promise and joy, and to an extent it is.
You will try to make the most of every situation and always try to find the good in everyone. And that is your superpower. You are amazing and worth only the best! Don’t ever forget that.
Iwant to give you some facts that I learned the hard way. My facts are not in order, and only the way I have been taught about how the world has treated me. Take what you will. Myself and your village love you, please remember that.
1) Don’t ever lose that spark, your kindness, your genuine care for others and your positivity. But it is also important that you remain realistic about everything.
2) Question those who are mean or seem to have bad intentions.
3) Speak your truth
4) . Love yourself and question those who tell you not too.
5) Never believe those who try to dim your shine, tell you or make you feel like your are either not enough or too much. You are who you are meant to be.
6) Growth is normal and wonderful and a necessary part of life. People can and do change a bit overtime. But their core is the same. Some change, but it’s rare and even more rare for the better.
7) Hard situations can harden even the softest hearts. Soft heart does not mean naïve and it does not mean a soft mind. It just means you care.
8) Caring is a good thing, not using logic is not. Though you may want to lead with your heart, always back up your decisions with your mind.
9) Keep your mind open and sharp, pay attention to everything even when it seems insignificant. Look for patterns in behavior, and always trust your gut.
10) Keep your real friends close and cut ties with the bad. Do not keep your enemies closer, it will only hurt you in the long run.
11) When people show their true colors. Trust them. Believe their real ugliness and not their fake kindness.
12) Rumors are typically a reflection of the bully, projection of their insecurities based on their own jealousy and inability to improve their situation. Do not feed into the rumors, that reflects poorly on you. Stay above it, you win in the end.
13) Love is rare. True love happens even less. Lasting love, that is equal and pure is once in a lifetime
14) Take care of your self. Self care is important. Remember you cannot pour from an empty cup
15) You always have to be your own priority, and don’t settle for someone who won’t make you one of their priorities.
16) Be reasonable. Work is work and often people can not be in communication when they are on the clock. But they can on breaks and lunches. If they never communicate you need to tell them that’s not ok. If it doesn’t change. Leave. You will find someone who will make communication with you seem effortless.
17) No matter what anyone says or does.
a. You are enough
b. You are not too much (they just can’t handle you)
c. You are beautiful inside and out
d. You are worthy of the very best
e. You are incredibly smart (don’t downplay your intelligence for the weak or ignorant)
f. Trust your gut. Intuition is rarely wrong
g. Listen to your body and trust your instincts
h. Abuse of any kind is never ok. Walkaway and don’t look back
The most important thing that I can say is to love yourself. There is only one of you. Be unique and treat yourself with respect, kindness, and grace.

Dear Younger Me,

You are not too much.
Not too emotional.
Not too intense.
Not too driven.
Not too hopeful.

The world will try to hand you smaller versions of yourself—quiet ones, agreeable ones, easier ones.
Don’t take them.
They won’t fit you, and you’ll spend years wondering why you feel so uncomfortable in your own skin.

I wish you knew that love is not proven by how much you can endure.
Staying is not always strength.
Sometimes leaving is the bravest, most honest thing you will ever do.

You are going to love people who cannot love you back the way you deserve.
Not because you are lacking—but because they are.
You will try to understand them, fix them, carry them.
You can’t.
That is not your assignment.

I wish you knew that being needed is not the same thing as being valued.
And you deserve to be valued.

I loved once.
I believed in what it was supposed to be.

Love does not do what was done to me.

So whatever that was—
it was not love.

And if I was wrong about that,
then I don’t know what love is.

At 5:04 a.m., the train comes through.

It does not hesitate.
It does not doubt.
It does not stay where it was hurt.

It moves.

I don’t.

Sleep is gone.
Faith is thinning.

You are going to give your heart to your work—to people in their worst moments, to stories that will sit heavy in your chest long after the file is closed.
You will be good at it. Too good, sometimes.

Learn sooner than I did that you cannot bleed for everyone and still survive whole.

Balance isn’t something you find.
It’s something you protect.

I wish you knew that your voice matters—even when it shakes, even when it feels inconvenient, even when someone you love doesn’t understand it.

Especially then.

There will be people who dismiss what you’ve been through.
Let them.
Truth does not need their agreement to exist.

And writing—listen carefully on this one—
writing is not something you “get to be” once someone else approves it.

You are a writer the moment you tell the truth on paper.

Don’t hide it to make someone else comfortable.
The right people will never ask you to shrink what makes you alive.

You’re going to question your faith.
You’re going to feel like God is silent.

God is supposed to answer.
That is what I was taught.

Ask.
Seek.
Knock.

I did.

Seven months of asking.
Seven months of standing
in the place I thought He led me to—

Nothing.

No answer.
No direction.
No interruption of the pain.

If He is here,
He is silent.

If He is speaking,
it is not in a language
I can survive.

You are stronger than you think—
but not in the way you believe right now.

Strength is not how much pain you can carry.
It’s knowing when to finally set it down.

And one more thing—

The things that break you will also build the part of you that refuses to stay broken.

You will walk away.
You will start over.
You will find your voice.

At 5:04, the train comes through again.

It cuts through the dark
like something chosen,
like something certain
it will arrive.

It does not need meaning.
It does not wait to be understood.

It moves.

I stand in what is left of belief,
in what is left of myself,
and feel the absence
of something that was supposed to hold.

The sound stays longer than it should—
dragging through the dark
after it is already gone.

And when it finally fades—

nothing replaces it.

But one day,
you will.

And when you do,
you won’t need anyone to tell you who you are.

You’ll already know.

Love,
Me

Here’s What I Wish You Knew

Baby girl-
Society is ugly
Yet you are beautiful
Comfort is best
Out of your comfort zone
And not confined
By false advertisement
Raising your voice
Is strength
Silence is
Not weakness
Emotions are meant to
Be expressed
Not suppressed
Validation from society
Is fake
They’re not worthy of
Your presence

Baby girl-
I wish you knew
How worthy you were
Your smartness deserved
To be advertised
The beauty you gave
To society needed
To be reciprocated

Here is what
I wish you knew-

You’re going to
Make it
Make a name for yourself

Writing Score 100%

Dear Unsealers

Dear Insecurity,

For as long as I can remember, you have been the loudest voice in my head. You followed me everywhere I went—into classrooms, down crowded hallways, into my home, and even into places that were supposed to feel safe. You were always there, whispering the same cruel thoughts into my mind. You told me I wasn’t good enough. You told me everyone was looking at me. You told me that my weight was the first thing people noticed and the only thing they would ever see.

For years, I believed you.

You made me question myself constantly. When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see a person with value or potential. Instead, I saw every flaw you wanted me to see. You made me believe that the way I looked defined who I was and how people would treat me. You made me feel like I was someone who didn’t deserve confidence or happiness.

School was where you grew the strongest.

For most people, school is supposed to be a place where they learn, grow, and build friendships. For me, it often felt like a place where I was constantly being judged. Walking through the hallways felt like walking into a room where everyone already had an opinion about me.

My weight became the thing people noticed before anything else.

Kids would stare at me and laugh. Sometimes it was obvious, and sometimes it was quiet whispers behind my back. There were jokes about how big I was, comments about what I must eat, and looks that made me feel like I didn’t belong there.

I remember times when students would look at me and start laughing with their friends. Even if I didn’t hear exactly what they said, I knew it was about me. The way they looked at me made it clear.

Every comment stuck with me.

Even when I pretended not to care, it hurt more than I ever admitted. I would go home and replay those moments over and over again in my head. I would ask myself what I did wrong. I wondered why people treated me like I was something to laugh at.

You took those moments and made them permanent in my mind.

Instead of seeing bullying for what it really was—cruel behavior from other people—you made me believe that their words were the truth about me.

The hardest part wasn’t just the other students.

Sometimes it felt like even the teachers joined in or ignored what was happening.

Teachers are supposed to protect students and make school a safe environment. They’re supposed to step in when someone is being bullied. But there were times when teachers made comments about my weight or laughed along with jokes. Even if they meant it as a joke or didn’t realize how much it hurt, those words stayed with me.

When an adult says something about your body in front of other students, it feels humiliating.

There were also moments when teachers saw the bullying and did nothing. When someone laughed at me or made a comment in class, and the teacher ignored it, it felt like they were silently agreeing.

Their silence made me feel even more alone.

You, insecurity, used those moments to become even louder in my head.

You reminded me of every laugh, every whisper, and every look I received. You convinced me that my weight was something people would always judge me for.

Eventually, those thoughts followed me outside of school.

Even when I went out in public, I felt like everyone was staring at me. When I walked into stores, restaurants, or public places, it felt like every pair of eyes was on me.

Sometimes people probably weren’t even paying attention to me, but in my mind it felt real.

I would see someone look in my direction and immediately think they were laughing at me. If I heard people laughing nearby, I assumed I was the reason.

You made me believe that the world was constantly judging me.

Because of that, going outside started to feel terrifying.

Something as simple as leaving the house made my heart race. I would imagine people staring, whispering, and laughing just like the kids at school did.

So I stopped going out as much.

Home became the only place where I felt somewhat safe. When I stayed inside, I didn’t have to deal with the stares or the fear that people were laughing at me.

But even staying home came with its own problems.

My family didn’t always understand why I avoided going out.

From their perspective, it probably seemed like I was just choosing to stay inside or being lazy. They would ask why I never wanted to go anywhere or why I didn’t try harder to ignore what people thought.

Sometimes it felt like they were angry at me for staying home so much.

There were moments when it felt like my family hated the fact that I didn’t go out or socialize the way they wanted me to. They didn’t see the thoughts running through my mind every time I imagined leaving the house.

They didn’t hear the voice in my head telling me that everyone would stare.

They didn’t feel the anxiety that came from believing the entire world was judging me.

To them, it might have seemed simple—just go outside and stop worrying about what people think.

But to me, it was never that simple.

Because the bullying I experienced at school had already convinced me that people really were laughing at me.

You, insecurity, made sure those memories never faded.

You replayed every painful moment in my mind. You reminded me of every insult and every joke. You made it feel like those experiences were happening all over again every time I stepped outside.

You convinced me that hiding was the safest option.

For a long time, I let you control my life.

I avoided situations where people might judge me. I avoided places where I thought people might stare. Instead of living my life freely, I spent a lot of time trying to protect myself from embarrassment or rejection.

But something I’ve started to realize is that you were never telling me the truth.

You were just repeating the worst moments of my past.

The people who bullied me in school didn’t define who I am. Their words were not facts. Their laughter wasn’t a reflection of my value as a person.

It was a reflection of them.

People who feel the need to bully someone because of their weight or appearance are usually dealing with their own insecurities. They tear others down because it makes them feel better about themselves.

For a long time, though, I didn’t see it that way.

I thought the problem was me.

I thought if I looked different, people would treat me better. I thought maybe I deserved the comments because of my weight.

But the truth is something you never wanted me to realize.

My worth has never been determined by my weight.

My value as a person has never been decided by the opinions of people who chose cruelty instead of kindness.

The bullying I experienced was painful, but it also showed something important about me.

It showed that I am stronger than I thought.

Every day I walked into school despite knowing people might bully me required courage. Every time I kept going despite the comments and laughter showed resilience.

Even when I felt broken inside, I kept moving forward.

You tried to convince me that those experiences made me weak.

But the truth is that surviving them made me stronger.

They also taught me empathy.

Because I know how deeply words can hurt someone, I’m more aware of how I treat other people. I understand how important kindness is because I know what it feels like to be treated without it.

I never want someone else to feel the way I felt walking through those school hallways.

In a strange way, the pain helped shape the person I’m becoming.

It made me someone who understands others more deeply. It made me someone who knows how powerful words can be. It made me someone who values compassion and respect.

So now I’m writing this letter to you, insecurity.

For years, you controlled the way I saw myself.

You made me believe that my weight defined me. You made me believe that people were always laughing at me. You made me believe that I needed to hide from the world.

But I’m starting to see through your lies.

You are not the truth.

You are just a voice created by painful experiences and memories.

And voices can be challenged.

Every time you try to tell me that everyone is staring at me, I will remind myself that my mind is stronger than those fears.

Every time you try to make me feel ashamed of my body, I will remind myself that my body is not something that needs to be judged by anyone else.

Every time you bring up the past, I will remind myself that the past does not control my future.

The person I am today is not the same person who once believed everything you said.

I am learning to see myself differently.

I am learning that confidence doesn’t mean never feeling insecure. It means recognizing those feelings and refusing to let them control my life.

I am learning that my worth comes from who I am as a person, not from the opinions of people who chose to bully me.

The bullying I experienced will always be part of my story, but it does not get to define the ending.

Instead, it is just one chapter in a much bigger journey.

You tried to convince me that I would always be defined by my weight and by the way people treated me because of it.

But that is not who I am.

I am someone who survived bullying.

I am someone who endured pain and kept going.

I am someone who is stronger than the voices that once tried to break me down.

So this is my message to you.

You may have been loud in my past, but you are not in charge of my future.

You no longer get to control how I see myself.

You no longer get to turn other people’s cruelty into my identity.

You no longer get to convince me that I should hide from the world.

Because the truth is something you never wanted me to realize.

I am worthy of respect.

I am worthy of kindness.

And no matter what anyone says, no matter what anyone thinks, and no matter what happened in the past—

I am enough.

Write a letter to your insecurity and take back your power
Virginia Albert, April 6, 2026

I’ve been riddled with defeat for as long as I can remember
I was born in October, but it must have been concocted in September
I grew up on the nice side of Houston, where Range Rovers run supreme
And everything is so clean, nice, tidy, and pristine
Growing up in a wealthy area, it seemed like everyone had it all together
But most days, it felt like a storm I had to weather
Was that a new Cartier watch? A 12-year-old boy asked me
No, it’s a knockoff, practically free
Economic insecurity plagued my family’s life for a while
We did go to the “rich kid” high school, but lacked the old-Texas style
The kind you read about in the movies, the Camp Mystic stuff
In which everyone knows everyone, including Cousin Hilary Duff
Growing up in an environment like that, even still, you fight to stay relevant
Who are these other people at the party? Well, isn’t this an elephant
The person you are isn’t always the person you act or become
You can live double lives and think you’re being clever until you’re undone
Insecurity comes mostly from various forms of self doubt
We want to be powerful, to have swagger, to have clout
The secret is it’s all just an act – no one has it figured to a T
We’re all just guessing – you and me
I’m insecure about my career and how far I’ve gotten
I don’t want it to turn scaly and rotten
I have to fight to get it back and it’s so hard
I’ve been on medical leave for a year and it probably worried (most)
Feeling like a total failure because I can’t work
It’s starting to make me chill yet a little beserk
I was insecure at times about my intelligence
Then I got older and guys didn’t care, just my breasts

To my insecurity,

I know you better than anyone.
You’ve been the voice in my head when things got quiet—the one that whispered I wasn’t enough, that made me question love even when it was real. You turned peace into suspicion. You made me feel like I had to hold on too tight or I’d lose everything. And in trying to protect myself, I ended up hurting people… and hurting me.
You had me second-guessing everything—every look, every word, every silence. You made me feel small in moments I should’ve felt safe. You convinced me that love was something I had to fight to keep, instead of something I could just trust.
But here’s what you don’t get to do anymore…
You don’t get to control how I see myself.
You don’t get to turn love into fear.
You don’t get to make me feel like I have to earn what is meant for me.
I see you now for what you are—not truth, just a wound that never healed right. And I’m done letting you speak louder than my growth.
I am not that scared version of me anymore.
I am learning. I am healing. I am becoming someone who trusts, who loves without fear, and who knows her worth without needing it proved.
You can still exist… but you don’t get a voice anymore.
I do.
—Me

To my insecurities,

Five minutes of my day, yet life-affirming.

I heard raucuous laughter as I stood on stage, mic in hand, acting out a particularly nasty scene. Performing stand up comedy was about the most rewarding thing I’d ever done.

That was ten years ago.

Then, I got caught up too much in my head. Every five-minute set wasn’t funny enough. Jokes about my dating life just made me desperate for approval, in my mind.

I edited and edited. For years. But did I take to the stage again? Nope.

I overthink and it makes me insecure. When people are playing a game, I’ll blabber about quantitatively easing into things. But, my (even taboo) thoughts turn out to be comedy gold.

This week, I did comedy again for the first time in ages: improv. This differs from stand up by being made up on the spot. Clue-reaction, that kind of in-the-moment funniness.

I discovered my weird thought tangents make people laugh indeed, whereas on bad days I feel like a failed philosopher who should shut their cakehole.

But, after improv week I say: keep filling my thoughts with “nonsense”. It’s what makes us vulnerable that makes us relatable.

This is what gives me the ability to make a room of strangers feel excited, entertained, or at the very least, bemused.

The all-consuming thoughts that linger, whispering lies, driving me insane to the point that I feel as if everyone has a vendetta against me. Lying awake for hours on end — coming up with scenarios that cause me to think the worst. I just want peace, but you seem to constantly want to make me overthink. Every time I try to press the pause button, you seem to be stuck on fast-forward like you’re trying to get through the commercials. Quite frankly, I’m sick of the games. When I say rest — you no longer get to hit the interstate with thoughts that make me feel like I’ve been hit by a train. I am the one in control. Sit down and chill out because your reign is over — I’m taking my power back. You know longer control my thoughts, my emotions, or my self-esteem. I know my worth. I know that I am enough – you don’t get to play with my emotions or keep me up late at night questioning why so many people don’t like me. I know it’s all in my head and you no longer get to hold me hostage. The time of making me feel worthless is over – you have been let go and peace has filled that vacant spot.