Dear 22 year old self,
I know that, right now, you’re unhappy: you hate yourself, and your life, and you’re terrified about graduating and what the future is going to bring and all of that bullshit. The worst part is, self, that you don’t really have the words or the self-awareness to know all this, but ten years later, I know. And this is what I can say, 22 year old self, is that ten years later, you will be happy. There will be sad moments, and there will be grief, and you will have your heart broken a dozen times, but you will be happy.
You will stand in the parking lot behind the Cave and talk to Grant Hart about Cheapo Records; you will take great photos of him. You’ll text with a fantastic filmmaking buddy about scheduling the screening of his Archers of Loaf documentary at the Cradle, and the movie he’s working on about Grant. You’ll do this after you had a date with a guy you really dig, and drinks with people you love very much, who happened into your life on the basis on a random, terrible show 15 months ago. You will go home and fall asleep and think that you are lucky, you are so lucky, to have this life.
So hang in there, okay? It gets better. You’ll be happy. Good things happen, I promise.
And Grant Hart will always be amazing, so at least you already know that. Hang onto it. It’s worth it.
32 year old me