by Hannah Kazemi, Staff Writer Dear me, As of writing this letter, I’m 21 (22 in January. What the hell happened to the time?!) and every single day I mourn you, 14-year-old self. Sometimes when I’m laying in bed at night stressing about school, my body, or all of my life choices, I think about what I wish I had known about being an adult before it happened. I think about how I would have acted differently, what kind of person I wanted to be, and things I’m proud of or regretful towards. I write notes on my phone about…
Continue reading
