Eggs

Dear Younger Me, 

It’s hard to admit, but my favourite food isn’t eggs anymore. The first time mom taught me how to make them sunny side up, I couldn’t help but stare at its yolk and how it delicately holds its shape. I was always hopeful that it would never break. Life as a teenager is a lot like that egg; it’s delicate, full of promise. But too much pressure could cause it to explode. 

Those days are still so vivid and overwhelming, rushing from school to Chinese class, then to art class, and afterwards, to taekwondo lessons. Even today, I still rush from place to place, trying to keep up in an effort to to prove something to myself. The many things I was passionate about, such as running the 5K and reading historical fiction, have simply become things to do on my Google Calendar. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve enjoyed an activity without thinking about the next thing to complete. 

When I slow down to look at old pictures of us, my throat tightens, and I remember the reason why I do so much. Like an egg, I may crack under pressure, but in those moments of stillness, I realize it’s the possibility of being something greater on the inside that continues to keep me hopeful.

With love,

Future self