Now Playing: Candles by Daughter (blow out all the candles, blow out all the candles, 'you're too old to be so shy' he says to me, so I stay the night)
Let me just tell you, you never feel less like an adult than in your first year of adulthood.
You're learning how to drive; you haven't killed anything yet, so I suppose I'm proud of that. It's a year of lost tempers and sarcasm and scraping through on loose change.
Rein in your PayPal, woman. Impulse spends at 4am when you can't sleep aren't entirely a bad idea, in that you've never bought anything completely stupid, but you do spend a stupid amount of money.
You come out of this year relatively unscathed, and you owe that entirely to your still-pathetic alcohol tolerance and copious amounts of Taylor Swift. You still haven't lost your fight or flight mode yet, and maybe that's a good thing.
This year, you lose your mentor; the person who was always there, from the beginning, to watch and help you with everything. Things turned sour and went south and I know you miss her, but friends come and go. You just have to keep on being you.
This was the year of the parties, and it's all new and exciting to meet new and exciting people. You meet B and, somehow, amongst all the Texta moustaches and tequila drenched sombreros, you find someone you can talk to for hours, at all hours, and it makes up for a little of all that you've lost. You weren't looking for anything, but the more you tried to hold on to what you had the more everyone accused you of wanting more than you deserved, and even now I can't find the words or the energy or the courage to try and convince them otherwise. You've still got haters, Dearest Eighteen, but you can't make everyone like you. You'll be the most popular dead man if you did.
You make mistakes. A lot of them. There was a lot you had to make amends for. But that will never excuse what he did, and how he left without saying goodbye. It was good whilst it lasted, but maybe next time find someone who gives a damn.
This time, though, you've got real friends to catch you when someone lets you down. We're planning a big night out, just for you, and I hope this coming year is better for you than the last. Never be afraid to speak your mind and stand your ground. This year you've learned that there are too many people willing you to be quiet, and trying to bring you to your knees, but you're made of stronger stuff.
Dearest Eighteen, you will get through this. You can get through anything. In two years time you'll be jetting away to a big city, you've got to believe that. It's the only thing keeping me going.
You've grown up a lot, but never lose your innocence. I want you to keep diving in head first, fearless.
Keep wearing red lipstick and give no fucks. You'll be okay, I promise.