Dear Older Me

Dear Older Me,

 

I hope you’ve figured this out by now.

Taxes

Bills

Debt

Food

Fun

Love

Hate

Sex

Have you figured it out yet?

 

I remember when I was six. “You’ll understand when you’re older,” Mom said.

It made me impatient to be older.

Should I be?

Tell me.

 

Because I feel I’ve learned a lot from when I was six.

First crush.

First kiss.

First death.

First paycheck.

First payment.

First heartbreak.

First existential crisis.

First mental breakdown. 

 

What else do I need to learn? What do you want me to know?

 

Because my life right now is just a bunch of questions that no one will explain to me.

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” should be stamped on my forehead

because nobody has given me directions on how to do this.

 

So, if it’s not too rude of me, I ask you to write me back.

 

Tell me what I’ll understand when I’m older.

 

I await your reply.

 

Love,

 

Your Younger Self 

This poem is about: 
Me

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