I’m going to name you. Like Anne Frank or Zlata Filipovic. But you’re going to have a boys name. Steve. What do you think? I’ll explain. You see more then anything else I’ve always wanted an older brother. I’m not sure why. Anyhow, whenever I imagine I have one, in my imagination his name is Steve. So when I write to you It’ll be like I’m writing a letter to my imaginary brother. Is that O.K.? I hope so. Well, I gotta go!
Dear Baby Me,
Oh you. First off, it is remarkably embarrassing that you are comparing your journal entries to the journals of young girls in the middle of war zones, one of whom did not survive.
Secondly, would you like to know why you think you want an older brother? I mean, there are a lot of reasons really. But they mostly center around the idea of male attention without danger and your intense need to be rescued and protected. Also you have named him Steve because of your weird crush on the 16yo who lived across the street from Ashley. Which in and of itself shows some of your issues with male attention. Which are not going to get better anytime soon.
But in spite of all that, this is so dorky that it is adorable. Also I like that you ask your journal if it is okay for you to name them. So. That’ll be a running theme for… quite a long time. You little weirdo.