Dear Younger Miranda

Dear younger Miranda,

Right now, you’re crying outside of a dingy bar having just gotten your fake ID confiscated, but don’t worry – only 6 more months until your real one arrives.

The truth is that those bars only seem cool because you’re not allowed in, and the friends waiting inside for you will have mostly
been forgotten in a few years. There’s a couple of good ones that stick around, though, and together you’ll learn that everything –
partying, life, love, money, music – gets so much better, deeper, and more interesting.

It’s only been 6 months since you moved out of your small home town by yourself, and started a new life. You’ll do this at least 4 more times; picking a new city that seems exciting and transporting your life in the boot of a hatchback. Each terrible hospo job is slightly less terrible than the last, and you never have to move back to the small hometown. One day you actually quit, to do music full-time. You’ll get to play shows in London and Paris with your best friends.

You grow to love your features and the fact that you look so much like both your parents. You finally realise that your naturally curly hair is a huge vibe (I know it’s impossible to believe right now, but you haven’t touched a straightener in years.)

You realise the earth-shattering heartbreaks were leading you to the right person… into becoming the right person.

Be patient, and don’t stress – the purple box dye will wash out.

xx