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Dear 15 year old me,
You probably won't read this letter because it's stuck in a pile of unfinished homework on your bedroom floor, next to the moldy cups of coffee and your dirty underwear, that you're too bone idle to put in the wash bin.
I'm now double your age, so basically this means I'm an adult. (So stop rolling your eyeballs at this, because although you think I'm old and boring... I'm about to give you the best advice you'll ever hear).
Right, first of all, take your cup full of fungus downstairs and wash it up... Pop your knickers in the wash while you're there. Trust me... your lack of basic self respect for your box room, is going to be used against you at future gatherings.
I know it's annoying and you've got better things to do, like belt out Survivor in your mirror like you mean it, but 'survival' to you right now, is getting credit on your Nokia 3310.... (oh, please)
Make mum a brew... (stop tutting) .... What if I told you, you've only got ten years left of her. She won't be there forever you know, and trust me.....One day, you'd do anything to hear her yell up them stairs again. When you take it to her, tell her how much you love her. You don't know it, but she's going through a lot right now, and she won't admit it because she's protecting you.
You're in such a rush to get out, live on your own, spread your wings, prove something. Why? Gosh seriously, slow down. You don't know how good you've got it!!
Hold on, baby crying, I'll be right back...
I'm back.
Sorry, I hadn't mentioned.... You'll become a mummy.
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