To my 16-year-old self, Hello from the future! It’s April in the year 2025. I can see you now, worrying about the Junior Cert but too lazy or distracted to do anything about it. You’ll leave everything to the last minute as you always do, but don’t worry about it. You’ll be grand, diamonds are made under pressure and all that. It’s probably not a good idea to interfere with the space-time continuum, but if memory serves me well, you’re at a point in your life where you might need to hear some of this, so here we go. Find a hobby outside of the house, one that keeps you active. Take up a sport; don’t be wearing all those Nike clothes for nothing. You’re like a walking false advertisement. Don’t beat yourself up about being hopeless at camogie. Leave that to your siblings, they’ll carry on the family tradition. Gaelic football and soccer are a lost cause, you already know that. You’re going to wish you did something like badminton; you enjoy doing it in PE as it is. Maybe even tennis; do it while your legs are still somewhat nimble. You’re also going to wish you knew how to play a musical instrument, so ask your mother or father to sign you up for piano, because that’s the one you’ll always wish you knew. Try not to stay up until four in the morning every night watching Family Guy, American Dad and Beavis and Butt-head. They’re hilarious, you love them, I know. Your sleep schedule and the black bags under your eyes will never recover from it. Trust me on this one. Eleven years later, we’re still staying up that late (if not later). Don’t take Pretty Little Liars so seriously. It’s not that deep, girl. It’s not even that good, which you’ll see someday. The boxset will sit in the DVD cabinet gathering dust for years after the series ends, and you’ll debate tossing it to make space for better boxsets (Succession, Mad Men, The West Wing), but you won’t because you don’t like to let things go. Read a chapter of a book every day. Try and pace yourself. You won’t take in as much of the story if you’re barreling through the pages. Give yourself the time to process it all, think over what happens in each chapter, tease it apart. It’ll help with your patience, and God knows you need that. Take it handy with the classics. By all means keep reading them, but know that you’ll only really understand what they’re really about when you’re older. You’re not going to enjoy Hemingway, and it’ll annoy you to no end because it’s Hemingway and why don’t you get the appeal? In 10 years’ time, you’ll be reading Sally Rooney (keep an eye out for that name) and as you’re writing, you’ll start to adopt her style, and writing will suddenly come a lot easier to you, and you’ll remember Hemingway, and you’ll realise you’ve misjudged him. Simplicity is an acquired taste, but it’s just as enriching as the intricacies of Fitzgerald. Spend more time with your friends this summer, don’t go all reclusive on them. You’ll never hear the end of it. Go to town on the bus, go down to the river with them (even though you can’t swim yet, but it’s easier to get the hang of it than you think). These kinds of summers are too few and far between to waste. You could do with the sunshine, even if you never tan in it. Like any teenage girl, you’re going to tie yourself in knots over certain people. You’ll make mistakes, it’s only natural. It’s the only way you’ll ever learn anything. Don’t be so hard on yourself about any of it. Ten years later, you’ll look back, and you’ll remember it all, but you’ll realise how insignificant some of it was. Cherish the time you spend with your family. Commit the small things, the quiet moments, to memory. They’ll mean the world to you someday. You’re going to be going into Transition Year in September, and they’re going to give you a list of subjects to try out for fifth year. For the love of all that’s holy, don’t do accounting. You’re not suited to it. Don’t try to be logical about it and say ‘oh but it’ll go hand-in-hand with business’. It won’t. Remember how you used to tear your hair out because you couldn’t get the numbers right in the Junior Cycle version? Hold onto that feeling. It’s not for you, it’s not a good fit. You’re going to wish you did a science subject, not because you’re scientifically inclined, but that kind of stuff is incredibly interesting and it’s good to know these things. You’re going to want to take the safest routes in life, you’re going to hear a lot of ‘oh, but you won’t find a job with an arts degree’. Don’t listen to any of that. Your passion is writing, you’ve known that since you were 10. Don’t let the writer’s block put you off. Don’t overthink it. Sit yourself down, put anything at all on the page, like throwing paint at a wall. Something will stick, and it’ll come back to you. You already know you’re going to go straight to college after you finish your Leaving Cert, and I won’t spoil how that ends up for you. Just trust your instincts. Don’t worry about what other people say or think. Make the most of it while it lasts, because you’ll always remember how much fun you had. No matter what happens, it’ll work out in the end. You’ll end up where you’re meant to be.