A Letter To My 12 Year Old Self

Dear 12 Year Old Me,

It’s 1997. You’re in a composite Year 5/6 class with none other than Jacob Sparkes. Somehow you both did all the Year 6 work last year, so you spend most of your final year of primary school unsupervised in a back room, flirting with none other than Jacob Sparkes.

You have somehow risen to a mild level of popularity, yet ‘coolness’ continues to evade you. You are a House Captain, yet when there aren’t enough Spice Girls you always end up as the manager or the floor sweeper. You are Prime Minister in Class Parliament, but you’re cheated out of the lead role in the school musical. You stand in the chorus line watching Sarah Green as Beauty doing a measly job of holding hands with the Beast, played by none other than Jacob Sparkes.

You have boobs and pimples and hairy armpits. You’ll spend your whole life feeling you’re a little older than you are.

But today, little 12 Year Old Me, is the last primary school assembly you’ll ever attend. Afterwards, Mrs Press will tell you to “…come back and see me when you’re a famous actor.” She may have kicked you out of Christmas craft for flirting too loudly with none other than Jacob Sparkes but she means well.

Between the final assembly and the disco, he will chase you around the school like he always does. Sometimes you chase him. Sometimes he chases you. No one has ever got caught.

My dear little mildly popular, early developed, ambitious, un-cool 12 Year Old Me! Please, just let Jacob Sparkes catch you!

Who knows what he’ll do!

Maybe he’ll just stop running, stand there puffing and sweating with those blue eyes avoiding yours, shrug and walk away! Maybe he’ll just tell you “You’re it,” and run off! But maybe, just maybe he might just kiss you! A peck on the cheek! A pash full on the mouth! Don’t worry, no one ever really knows how to do that kind of thing. Everyone just makes it up. Maybe he’ll hold your nervous hand at the disco. Maybe he’ll take you to the movies at Tuggeranong Hyperdome. Maybe years later he’ll pash you in your first mosh pit, take you to uni gigs in his first car and teach you how to drink beer!

Who knows what he’ll do!

Maybe, years later, holding a microphone in front of your all gathered friends and extended families, he’ll recount almost half a lifetime of memories you’ve created together. Maybe, years later, he’ll hold your nervous hand as you lie on your back with weird goop and a cold metal thing on your belly as you look at a screen with a small head, small arms and small legs on it.

Who knows what he’ll do!

So just let him catch you, won’t you, little 12 Year Old Me?

Kind Regards,

Your Hopelessly Romantic Yet Very Single 28 Year Old Self


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