The Boy You Think Is Awesome Really Isn’t Awesome At All (and other useful observations) from Author Kelly Barnhill (THE MOSTLY TRUE STORY OF JACK)
Teen Kelly, far right.
Dear Teen Me,
It’s January, 1990. You’re sixteen. You’re lonely. You’ve always been lonely. This isn’t to say that you don’t have friends: you do. It’s just that you’re….odd. Out of step. Uncomfortable. Even when you’re around people you’re lonely. You’ve fallen in love – ardently, thoroughly – eighteen times since the beginning of high school. You are young, hopeful. Full of juice.
Still, you’ve never been kissed, never been asked out, and the one time you got up the courage to ask a boy out on a date, you were shot down.
I know. It sucks. Even in memory, it sucks.
Still, I won’t lie to you and say that it gets better. It won’t; not really. You’ll always have an undercurrent of loneliness, but you’ll learn to accept that loneliness. Love it even. Your loneliness will make you a writer. Your loneliness will connect you to the world. You’ll always be … odd. You’ll accept your oddness. You’ll defend it. Love it. Indeed, your oddness – your slightly out-of-step way of being in the world – will be a source of strength to you some day. It will allow you to notice things – important things – that others do not.
What I can do, though, is to give you a little advice. Important advice. Follow it, and you’ll save yourself a lot of hurt later on. I know you won’t, of course, but still. A girl’s gotta try, right?
- The boy you think is awesome really isn’t awesome at all. This is one of those bits of advice that is pretty much universal. You’re about to spend the next three years mooning over the boy who shot you down earlier this fall. Don’t. He’s not gonna be into you. Not now, anyway. And when he is, you’ll be in the best, most fruitful, most awesome relationship of your life. You’ll be tempted to throw it all away. You won’t. Two years later, when you get word of arrests and horrifying allegations, you’ll thank your lucky stars. Trust me.
- The body you have is the only body you’ll ever have. Hating it is a friggin’ waste of time. You will spend your entire high school career hating your body. You’ll spend your entire college career hating your body. Don’t. It’s a waste of time. Your body is your interface with the world. It’s how you experience everything that is wonderful about being alive – good food, sun on your face, kisses, wool socks, hot baths, cool wine on a parched tongue, green grass on bare skin, and, eventually, sex with the person you love best in the world. One day – nine years from now – you’ll learn to love your body. Your belly will be round and soft, your breasts full of milk, and your newborn baby will be dreaming in the bassinet next to the hospital bed. You’ll love your body then. And you won’t stop.
- Your mom is way smarter than you think she is. I know – I know. She drives you nuts. You want to throw things at her. The incessant truisms are making your brain explode. Here’s the thing: Her truisms are true. And the sooner you learn that, the better off you’re gonna be.
- Sometimes people will ask you to do things that you know are impossible. Sometimes you have to do them anyway. You’re about to get asked to intervene in things that are way beyond your maturity level. Three of your friends will be hospitalized for eating disorders. You’ll lose one of them forever. One friend will be expelled. Another friend’s sister will run away. Then she’ll run away again. Then, while you’re at their house, you’ll learn about her crack addiction – and the things that she had to do to maintain her addiction. You’ll lose your innocence. You’ll lose it again and again and again. But you won’t lose your willingness to help. In fact, it’ll be the thing that defines you.
- Trust yourself. This will be the thing that will be the hardest to learn. Indeed, it is your lack of trust in yourself that will precede every major failing in your life. Look: you’re gonna fail. A lot. And that’s okay. Being wrong doesn’t mean that you can’t move forward. Screwing up doesn’t mean that you can’t make a situation better. It’s when you lose the ability to trust in yourself that all hell breaks loose. It’s when you stop trusting yourself when you sink into all kinds of dark places. There will be dark places. You’ll survive. There will be failures. You’ll survive. There will be despair and agony and loss. You’ll survive. You’ll work. You’ll love. You’ll build. And you’re gonna make something cool.
- Enjoy it. Yes
–Kelly
Little Brown Books for Young Readers, August 2011.
Kelly Barnhill‘s first novel, THE MOSTLY TRUE STORY OF JACK – a lyrical fantasy for Middle Grade readers – is set for a Spring 2011 release by Little, Brown. She’s ridiculously excited about it. Kelly also writes short stories, which have appeared in Fantasy, Weird Tales, The Sun, Clockwork Phoenix, and a bunch of other places. She’s also been known to apply her penchant for all things Odd, Strange, and Downright Disgusting, in producing high interest non-fiction books for kids. She’s published 13 so far.
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So much good stuff here, Kelly. Fantastic letter. They’ve all been great and I don’t take the time to comment on all of them (I probably should) but this is one of those that I think may really resonate with some teen out there. Different things speak to different people and I know there’s something in every letter that’s been posted that could reach someone but I just had to stop and let you know how wonderful I think this is.
Thanks, Shelli! I really appreciate it.
I just *have* to believe that my incurable dorkiness and many, many mistakes will be useful to someone someday. If, for no other reason, to make someone in the world feel slightly less alone.
That thing you said about your body being your interface to the world and how you came to love your body–that was beautiful. It made me all teary reading that. Thanks for sharing, Kelly!
I really related to this post. I feel exactly the same way you did at 16. I have friends but I’ve always been odd. I started to accept my oddness junior year of univ or so and I’ve come to realize (1) and (3). Still working on the others.