You did it.

You finally did it. You got yourself a man/woman. You got yourself a little house like you wanted, with a little garden so you could have little you’s running around.

And you wanted the white picket fence? You got it. You went out and got it. 

Well done, Julia. I’m proud of you.

You been to hell and back up till now, and it won’t get any easier. You’ll just learn how to deal with it better.

You’ve lost friends, and family. You’ve traveled to the other side of the world on your own.

You’ve been through different jobs, and found your calling.

But here you are. At 30 years old. And you rock, future me.

You fucking rock. You go girl. Hold that head high, rocking your skinny jeans cause you got that bomb ass figure you always dreamed of.

I knew you would do it.

Keep up the good work. 

Love, past you, aka present you, aka 21 year old you. 



7 thoughts on “Letter to 30 year old me

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