If I could talk to my younger self, the one with scraped knees and shining eyes, I would sit beside them quietly and watch their fearless dreams rise.
I would tell them, “Don’t rush growing up, your laughter is your greatest treasure. These careless days will one day become your most precious measure.”
I would whisper, *“You are enough,” even on days you feel small. Not every voice you hear is right, not every stumble is a fall.”
I would tell them it’s okay to fail, to cry, to try again. Because strength is not breaking — it’s rising, now and then.
I would warn them not to compare their story to someone else’s race. Every heart has its own rhythm, every journey its own pace.
I would remind them to hold their dreams even when the world says “no.” Sometimes the slowest paths are the ones that help you grow.
And when doubt clouds their gentle mind, I’d take their trembling hand and say, “One day you will be proud of the person you will stand.”
If I could talk to my younger self, I wouldn’t change a single scar — because every mistake, every tear has made you who you are.