What's good, Megan.
I don't even know if you remember me, because you and your family moved to like New Zealand after middle school (honestly, good move with that- they're so chill there, and I here the food isn't that ba-)
Shoot. I'm getting sidetracked by food. Again. Okay, where was I-
Ah yes. Megan.
I honestly don't remember why I would let a kid with sparkly Uggs and layered Hollister shirts get me down. Seriously, you thought you were all that and a bag of Flamin' Hot Takis. You called my Spiderman socks "boyish". OKAY MINI KAREN, GUESS WHAT? I STILL WEAR SPIDERMAN SOCKS SOMETIMES. AND IT'S AMAZING. EDUCATE YOURSELF *throws every marvel movie on dvd at your face*.
Wait, there was a different motive for writing this then to flaunt my Spiderman socks...
Fourth grade me would want to tell you that you're a obtuse rubber goose green moose apple juice giant snake birthday cake large fry chocolate shake friggen brat.
But I'll be 16 soon, and I just wanted to tell you that:
I've moved on.
And I hope you have, too.
what do you want to tell to your megan? write in prose, poetry, a short story, or take a (attempted) comedic route like here.
also, God bless those who got the Fairly OddParents reference.