Writing for sanity (aka I’m an entitled brat)

I often look back into my past and talk to younger versions of myself. (No, It’s not called a disorder. It’s called SELF-AWARENESS, MAN, QUIT JUDGING). 5-year-old me is probably the smartest I’ve ever been. 11-year-old me was so clueless sometimes I think I should slap her (lovingly) in the face. And hug her. She…