If my fifteen year old self were to see me like this, she would click her tongue and save me from this neck-deep mess. She would clean me up and tell me to pull myself together, that the world is my oyster, that one day I'll win the Nobel and marry a handsome lord. If my fifteen year old self were to be here, you'd probably fall in love with her and she would ignore you.

If she knew this is what was going to happen, she wouldn't have readily given herself to the world and turned into me.