Dear Young Me,

I see you—sitting in the back of your dad’s barbershop on San Antonio’s East Side, sketching cartoons in the margins of your schoolbook, pretending the broom is a microphone, spinning dreams bigger than the room you’re in.

You don’t know it yet, but all those daydreams? They’re not silly. They’re seeds.

I know it feels like the world is too big and you’re too small. You don’t have much money. You’re not sure where to start. But hear this: you’re not crazy for dreaming. In fact, those dreams will become the roadmap for your life.

One day, that voice you’re practicing in the mirror? It’ll come through millions of radios across the country. One day, the kindness and joy you feel when making people smile? It’ll be your greatest strength—not just on stage or behind a mic, but in life.

You’ll meet your heroes. You’ll become a voice for others. You’ll get knocked down more than once—but your enthusiasm will always lift you up again.

And here’s something else: your greatest victories won’t be the awards or applause. They’ll be the quiet moments—encouraging a student after a speech, making your children laugh, holding the paw of a dog who loved you unconditionally.

So keep going, kid.

Keep recording your voice onto that old cassette player. Keep reading books, watching cartoons, and dreaming wildly. You don’t need permission to believe in yourself. You already have everything you need: a big heart, a curious spirit, and a stubborn kind of hope.

Life won’t be perfect. But oh, it will be beautiful.

And one day—when someone younger asks how you did it—you’ll smile and say: “I didn’t know what I couldn’t do!”

With love and gratitude,
Future You