Her name is Sugar, and she writes an advice column for The Rumpus.
She was asked a version of that age old question: if you could talk to your 20-year-old self, what would you say?
It struck such a chord with me that I've been thinking about it for days. Especially this part:
The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people’s diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming.
Thank you, Sugar, for saying what I couldn't put into words.
And a photo, taken on a long, meandering walk through Madrid.