Dear Thirteen: Letters for the Girl I Used to Be

The day I turned 13

I’m writing this mostly for myself. Like all writers, I hope others will read these words and find some insight they didn’t have before. I hope it might, in some small way, change someone’s life. But if I’m being honest, I’m secretly hoping that writing it will change mine.

I hope that when I stop typing, I’ll be a different person—wiser, kinder, more forgiving. I hope I’ll be someone worth the time it takes to read these posts. More than anything, I hope I’ll be in love with the version of myself who sat down and wrote honestly about her life.

I can’t guarantee this blog will be good. I can’t promise you’ll find meaning in the mess or that you’ll come away a new person after the final post.

But I can promise it will be honest. It will, as my mother says, “tell the truth and shame the devil.” These letters are a collection of my best and worst qualities laid bare on the page.

It’s going to be messy and complicated—because my life is messy and complicated. But I hope, in all that chaos, there’s something meaningful. Something that makes you pause. Something that makes you feel less alone.

I hope you find something here that helps you forgive yourself. I hope you build a life you’re proud of. I hope you make peace with the person you are. And maybe—just maybe—you’ll feel inspired to write yourself a letter too, and give yourself the advice you truly deserve.

I see you. And I hope, when you’re done reading, you’ll see me too.