Read Time: 2 minutes

Happy Sunday 👋🏾,

If you had to write a letter to your younger self—the version of you that didn’t feel seen, didn’t quite fit in what would you say?
​
This week, I’m writing to 15-year-old me.

Dear L,

You think you're not enough.

But you are.

You're in Year 11 now, but lost more than ever.

Not quite a boy, not quite a man.

Caught between corridors full of noise and rules that don’t make sense.

You rebel against them, not to be clever, but because deep down, you're hoping someone might catch your pain.

You walk those halls with your shoulders dipped, trousers sagging—not because you want to disappear, but because you've learned it’s safer than standing out.
​
Even among your people, you feel like an outsider.

Too dark. Too quiet. Too loud. Too short.

And yeah, your head’s a little large. But don’t worry… you’ll grow into it.

Remember that time they laughed at you when you were asked to read aloud?

You stumbled. Struggled.

So you kicked off, so no one could tell you couldn’t read, at 15.

Phonics, sounding out words... it all seems like a different language, even though you can speak English.

But don’t worry, you will grace stages. Your words will move people.

You’ll speak, and people will lean in.

When it comes to girls, you're not exactly winning.

They don’t see your handsome, dashing young looks yet or the man you will become.

But don’t stress.

In college, you’ll meet the love of your life.

She’ll see you fully. All of you.

She’ll stand by your side, and you’ll build a beautiful family together.

She’ll become your ride or die.

She might take a little time to be won over…

But trust me, your game has developed since school, and you’ll win.

In college, life also gets heavy.

You’ll be diagnosed with epilepsy, without warning.

It’ll knock you sideways.

You’ll become angry at the world.

Trust me, you’ll be fine.

You’ll find your rhythm.

You’ll learn your triggers.

You’ll learn yourself.

You’ll learn when to rest.

L, give yourself permission.

Permission to be you.

To be weird.

To be different.

To embrace that gap in your teeth like a signature.

To wear your height and your hue like armour, because Black is beautiful.

And the darker, the sweeter the juice.

You’re not vertically challenged.

They just haven’t caught up to your thinking.

You are not behind.

You are becoming.

It’s tempting to shrink.

To fold.

To fit.

But don’t.

Don’t dim your light just because their eyes haven’t adjusted to your brightness.

You don’t need their approval to be bold.

You don’t need their applause to be valid.

You are already enough.

What you do need, what I need you to hold onto, is yourself.

Your weirdness.

Your wonder.

Your stubborn resilience.

Your quiet brilliance.

Focus on your lane.

Build in silence.

Create you with your whole chest.

And when that voice in your head whispers, “I’m not enough”?

Talk back.

Because you are.

Trust me, bro. You’ve got this.

Quote of the Week

Have a great week!

If someone forwarded this to you, Subscribe here.