A Letter to My 15-Year-Old Self
- Shreya Sharma
- Mar 21
- 1 min read
The 15-year-old me would be so proud of the 30-year-old me today. She wouldn’t believe her eyes—seeing me thrive as a software developer while baking professionally? That thought would have never crossed her mind. But oh, she would be amused by the mere idea of it.
She would love to chow down on my brownies, savor every bite of the cookies I craft, and probably roll her eyes at the idea of me juggling two completely different worlds. But at the same time, she’d bombard me with questions, eager to know how I got here. She would eat up my brain, not just my bakes, desperate to uncover every lesson, every decision, and every mistake that shaped me.
And I know one thing for sure—she would revolve around me like I’m her sun. Because, in a way, I am. I’ve become the woman she would run to for all her problems, the one she’d look up to and say, *"You did it."*
So, to my younger self: I hope you’re watching. I hope you’re smiling. And I hope you know—we turned out just fine.
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