Dear high school me,
You’re sitting in your room again, staring at the same four walls of a town that feels way too small for your dreams. You’ve probably just finished homework, or maybe you’re journaling again—writing about what life could be like outside of Bridgeport, even if it all feels a little far-fetched right now.
I want to start by telling you something simple:
You made it.
Not just to college, but to Amherst. Yes, that Amherst—one of the best liberal arts colleges in the country. I know, you’re probably googling it right now to double check it’s even real. I did that too.
But here’s the thing: the road here wasn’t magical or easy. It was messy and emotional and full of late-night “what ifs.” You questioned your worth. You worried about money. You wondered if anyone with your identity would belong. You tried to shrink yourself to fit in. But one day you’ll learn that your identity, your rural roots, your first-gen strength—they were never things to hide. They were always your superpowers.
I know right now you’re afraid of outgrowing people. You think that loving your town and wanting to leave it are contradictory things. They’re not. You can honor where you come from and still want more for yourself. Wanting more doesn’t make you ungrateful—it makes you brave.
Here’s what else I wish you knew:
- You will find your people. The ones who let you be messy and loud and soft and everything in between. The ones who will sit with you when you’re homesick and celebrate with you when you get your first byline or research opportunity.
- You won’t have to explain yourself all the time. One day, you’ll be in a classroom where having your identity won’t feel like a disclaimer—it’ll feel like perspective.
- You will cry—sometimes in bathrooms, sometimes in libraries, sometimes in the middle of the quad. That’s okay. Let it out. You’re healing.
- You’ll also laugh so hard you can’t breathe. You’ll eat s’mores with new friends. You’ll get amazing opportunities. You’ll write blogs like this one. You’ll find joy where you least expect it.
The truth is, you won’t be able to predict all the ways you’ll grow. But I promise—one day, you’ll look around at your life and say, “I didn’t know it could feel like this.”
So keep dreaming big. Keep writing. Keep fighting for the version of yourself you’re becoming.
And when you finally step onto that campus for the first time, take a deep breath. You belong.
With love,
Your future self (who still cries at poems and never stops dreaming)