Dear Future Self,
It’s Christmas morning (more like coming around to noon, but this sounds more poetic) as I’m writing this and surprisingly, I’m not feeling as shitty as I did last year. I mean, I’m still in a bit of an existential crisis, but it’s more like generally doubting myself rather than a full blown mental breakdown at 3am because you just realised your life has amounted to nothing (kidding!!!).
So, nineteen, huh? It’s a bit of a weird, finicky age where you’re basically an adult except you’ve still got a ‘teen’ tacked on back there so not really. Also, you still can’t drive, even though you’ve been demanding to get lessons for the entire year, and now you can drive straight and make some U-turns. Maybe you’ll graduate to making a proper left turn next year. And don’t even get me started on your curfew A.K.A dad being too lazy to exit the house past 6pm so you miss out on all the fun after events are done. It’s like nothing much has changed since high school, y’know?
Speaking of which…
Remember when everyone said they’d stay in touch and go on a big reunion trip after the pandemic was over? Yeah, that didn’t happen. Not to say there weren’t attempts, but everyone just kept having other things do do.
Not to mention you keep getting ignored in the group chat.
It’s not such a huge loss, though. I know I was so scared about progressing into my bachelor’s, but thus far its been quite alright.
Except Ethnic Relations, that bitch can go to hell.
But other than that, I think I’m starting to settle in to uni life, especially now that online classes are basically over. I’ve found my own people, and even though my social life isn’t quite as vibrant as one might’ve hoped its not too shabby. Much has happened since the last letter, and honestly there’s just so much to write in here that this might be our longest one yet.
So in no particular order, here’s what went down in the year of 2022:
So, Chinese New Year. I would say that was probably the first big-girl event I had, and obviously it had to be the very first one of 2022. I didn’t play that big of a role for this one, but I walked a runway and danced in heels, which no, you’ll never hear the end of till the next event, in which I may or may not emcee again since I’m secretary now and that might cause some issues, but we’ll see what happens.
I emceed for an event! Look, that had been a long time coming anyway since I signed up for my first CCS event, but I finally did it. I’ve got the Instagram post to remember it. And sure, the pre-amble was chaotic as hell and for a second there I may have thought all our hard work would’ve been for nothing, and the post-mortem meeting we did afterwards did expose a bunch of different issues with the organisation, but that’s OK. We pulled it off, and made a lot of memories along the way.
Also, I singlehandedly wrote an entire script and somehow got all my group members to pull it off in less than a week. Truly, a Christmas miracle. It was early December, it still counts. Still, there’s the challenge of doing theatre in the later semesters, but considering the kind of intel I’ve gathered after watching a couple of theatre productions for myself, I have good faith we’ll pull through. Having that project met with good reception put some more confidence back in me that I do, in fact, know how to write, and I didn’t chose to be in this major for nothing.
I made the secretary position for CCS! Dunno what the committee saw in me, but I’m determined to be at the very least damn good at this job. Our first meeting for the CNY event’s gonna be the Monday after I finish writing this, so all the best for you when you actually get around to running the event. The reason why I wanted to join the committee in the first place was to get a closer look at the inner workings of the club itself, and hopefully get closer with the other members, rather than only showing up for events.
I also somehow managed to make it through Ethnic Relations mostly unscathed. Somehow got an A, too, which to this day I still don’t know how it happened but I sure ain’t complaining.
There’s a lot more, but those are some of the major highlights. It hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows, though. Of course not. It’s us we’re talking about. Who would we be if we weren’t at least a little mentally unstable and morbidly curious about what happens after death, right? That title’s gotta get involved in this letter somewhere.
Honestly, I’m still not so sure about turning twenty next year. I’m still not a fully functioning adult yet, and seeing the adults around having jobs and living independently on their own makes me wonder if I’m even ready to take on that mantle when I am only further reminded of how immature I am. Ironic, considering that everyone we meet always seems to think we’re older than we actually are.
I don’t feel I’m worthy of turning twenty. Hear me out. Maybe it sounds completely irrational, but I feel like I can’t turn twenty until I’ve somehow managed to get my shit together. Learn how to drive, at least.
Every time someone asks about what I want to do after I graduate, I have a bunch of answers pre-loaded, but when it comes to what I actually want to do myself, I keep drawing a blank. I know I want to publish a book at some point, but I’m still too scared to actually start it. I’m planning it out for now, I’ve got a basic skeleton of a plot in my head, and the characters are all relatively fleshed out, but something’s still missing from the equation. The book we’ve been writing since 2020 has long since been given up on, and I’m going in a newer, hopefully better direction now.
Even if it doesn’t quite feel that way, I feel we’ve matured quite a bit over the past couple years. I’ve done so many things that high school me, or even me from last year would never thought she’d get the guts to do. Sure, the self-doubt is still there, and chances are you’ll still probably get a few anxiety attacks every now and again, but between this year and the last, we’re doing much better already. Hopefully this keeps being the trajectory of our lives and things haven’t gone completely to shit by the time you come back to this letter around this time next year. And if it is (heaven forbid), you’ll have a reminder of what you managed to accomplish at the age of 19.
With that said, good luck for 2023. Try not to go insane, cause’ let me tell you I came close a few times. MSU project deadlines are really something else.
Sincerely, nineteen-year-old-me.