My 12 year-old Self is (probably) a Douche Bag

If you were to ask any twelve year-old what he or she will be doing when they are 25, they would probably have a list of accomplishments that they are certain they will have plenty of time achieved in their next thirteen years on earth. They will probably say something like this: I will be married, working as a ______ (fill in the blank with dream job, something not entirely unfeasible, just enough out of reach to make your older self fell as though you have given up on your dreams in taking a different job), I’ll have five dogs, a really cool house, and two kids (note: I would have never said that I wanted to kids, even when I was twelve, but I’m assuming some of you don’t cringe at the thought of a slimy little poo monster with your own DNA).

The problem with your twelve year-old’s version of the future is that the little shit has no idea what they are doing. They don’t take into account that life is complicated and messy and fucking sucks sometimes. That ass hole doesn’t understand that you are under qualified for that dream job….or that you are still way to young (read:broke) to be purchasing real estate, or the fact that you can’t have five dogs and live in the city, you stupid idiot.
That stupid twelve year-old jerk doesn’t realize that it takes a lot more to get from student to employed and self sufficient human being – it’s not always a straight line, more often than not it’s a giant tangled mess.

So because my younger self had all of this laid out it is pretty difficult to break it to her that it just doesn’t happen like that. But you know what? Suck it up, little girl.


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