What I Would Tell My 20-Year-Old Self: 25 Short Life Lessons (If I Had Ever Listened to Anyone Back Then)
Published:
You still don’t know what taxes are, project chat fights, or loans with interest rates higher than your body temperature. Enjoy it, you fool—but at least listen to this.
Hello, naive romantic with an oily T-zone
I’m 20. I think I know everything.
I believe in love, personal branding, and that I’ll be a billionaire by 25.
Spoiler: I didn’t become one. But now I’m older, meaner, and wiser. At least a little.
If I could send myself a letter through time—I wouldn’t. I’d just write this list. Because words don’t work. But sometimes they stick.
📜 25 short lessons I learned later than I’d have liked:
No one knows what they’re doing. Not even the guy in the tie.
Success courses won’t help if you don’t like yourself.
It’s okay not to know. What’s scary is pretending you do.
Fix your teeth right away. It’ll hurt more later. In every sense.
Thinking you’re a genius is not the same as being one.
The girl who ignores you isn’t “complicated,” she’s just not interested.
Sleep isn’t a weakness. It’s the reason you’re not crying at lunch.
It’s better to do it badly than to just dream of doing it perfectly.
If you want something—say so. The only ones who want in silence are in the grave.
“Working for experience” is just a way for them to save money on you.
It’s always easier to love yourself with money. Sadly.
Friends leave. Real ones too, if you become a jerk.
Paying for food at a café is not the same as a date.
Don’t buy courses from people who yell into the camera.
If you want something—start. The rest will catch up. Or it won’t—and thank god for that.
People don’t think about you as much as you think they do.
Anger passes. Screenshots don’t.
The future isn’t a destination, it’s a driving style.
You’re not a loser. You just haven’t started doing things for real yet.
Sometimes the best choice is to leave. Even if you don’t say goodbye nicely.
Compare yourself only to who you were yesterday. And even then, carefully.
There will be more sex. Doesn’t mean it’ll be better.
Being ashamed of old posts is a sign of growth, not disgrace.
Life isn’t a diploma. Here, cheating is expensive.
You don’t have to fit in. You have to breathe. The rest is optional.
Conclusion:
If I’d told this to myself at 20—I’d have nodded, posted a story with a quote, and gone back to drinking cheap lattes.
But maybe you’ve read this to the end. That means you have a chance not to repeat some of my mistakes.
At least not the less fun ones.
Parmegano
Author