The Sunday Dreads Vol. 56
What would you tell your younger self?
It’s a dumb question, because your younger self isn’t interested in the musings of her elder self.
You are an abstraction, a vague essence. Jumping back into time would only disappoint your former self, no matter how impressed you think she may be.
She’s not impressed.
She thought you’d be…different. Hotter, maybe? More successful? Better dressed, for sure.
She is cursed to walk the path you already walked, rejecting the cheat codes you hold in your hand because she didn’t ask you to time travel just to tell her she’s doing it wrong.
But oh, if I could!
If I could knock the “skip proof” Discman out of her hand, pull her shoulders back and her chin up. If I could press into her palm a list of the boys/men from which she should run. If I could pull her hand back from the metaphorical stove before she burns her skin off. If I could push her out of the way of the metaphorical traffic that is about to flatten her.