If there is one blog I adore, it's Autumn's she always has the best posts, the most witty comebacks to situations, and she is probably the most natural and gifted writers... her posts sometimes make me change my whole line of thought. So when she proposed this link up idea, I got super excited!
Dear Ten Year Old Brooke,
The best part about you is the fact you are beginning your journey and falling more and more in love with theatre and performing and you don't even know it. Trust me the fact you keep trying to teach the girls at the playground routines to grease and instructing your best friend on Judy Garland is going to pay off in the long run. I want to thank you little Brooke, your passion for the arts has stuck with me all these years. It's because of you that I have the passion I feel each day I walk out of a theatre class. Thank you.
Dear Seventh Grade Brooke,
On March 31st you wrote in your diary, the person you most are like is Miley Cyrus. I can in fact tell you, you are not. Twenty year old Brooke does not lick hammers, run around naked on wrecking balls, nor was I engaged to Liam Hemsworth (sorry to disappoint) Along with your feelings of being Miley, you also have wrote "I loathe ------ to persuade in his trivial likings as such. Love hits you and I have not yet seemed to become a hit victim." Don't worry, you are still as dramatic as ever, and that guy you loathed because he didn't let love hit you... he now looks like a hippy and you haven't really thought of him since. Also I am here to report that the love has still not let you become a "hit victim."
Dear Eighth Grade Brooke,
I am here to tell you that moving to a new school and being an hour away from your old friends is NOT the worst thing to ever happen to you. Remember how you dramatically had your first slow dance to Nick Lachey's What's Left Of Me with the boy you had a crush on for two years, you are still just as shy, romantic, and socially awkward when it comes to boys to this day... trust me. Stop being stressed over moving, these are going to be the best years of your life. You are going to meet your best friend forever, heck you might even meet your husband... I will get back to you on that one.
Dear High School Senior Brooke,
Stop crying and feeling guilty that you let a boy put his arm around you. In the words of Rizzo... there are worse thing I could do. This boy doesn't even matter and letting him put his arm around you doesn't make you a slut, his, or whatever else you were thinking at the time. The right guy is out there, and he won't make you feel guilty about letting him put his arm around you.
I could go on and on, and probably in the future.... I will. But for now here are some Letters To Myself... here's hoping twenty year old Brooke has learned a lot since then.
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