The letter below is part of an ongoing series featuring letters from authors to their teen selves. If you're a published author who'd like to participate in this series, we'd love to have you. Just click here and let us know you're interested. Today's guest is Deeba Zargarpur, author of House Of Yesterday, which comes out tomorrow.
Dear fifteen-year-old Deeba,
The first thing I have to tell you is the year.
I know. I know.
It feels impossible to be sitting here, saying the words to you, but you know I have to. I wish so badly I could go back to you, hold your hand, embrace you, and tell you, “We made it.” I won’t sugarcoat it because I know you’ll roll your eyes at me, but we did it. We lived past twenty and survived to tell the tale. I know you won’t believe me because all you know is the dark right now, but spoiler alert: you survive. You fought the dark hole of the future and made it to the other side. I said I wouldn’t sugarcoat it, so yeah, it hurt like hell to stay. It still hurts most days, but if you could only see yourself now, you’d be laughing-crying to see the person you grew up to be.
How I wish I could pluck you from where you are and bring you here, but life doesn’t have a shortcut button yet (last time I checked, anyway. I’ll try again in another ten years).
Deeba as a teen