When Anna was in grade eight, she was worried about getting older, so she wrote about it in her diary.

Dear diary, grade eight is fine. Nothing new, big, or exciting has happened.

I'm still trying to get used to the fact that I'm in grade eight though.

I feel like my whole life is slipping away right before my eyes and there's nothing I can do about it.

Sometimes I just want to stop time and not get any older.

Like I no longer have a childhood.

Soon I'll be a teenager and then a young adult and then an adult and finally a senior citizen.

P.S. People are always saying that your teen years are the best years of your life.

Well, what's so fucking great about them anyway? So far they suck.

That's Anna, grappling with the harsh reality of growing up. I'm Dan Meisner, and this, this is grown-ups read things they wrote as kids.

This is a show where we go back in time to remember the good, the bad, and the awkward parts of growing up.

This time, our show was recorded live at the Hot Docs podcast festival in Toronto.

And the really cool thing about this show is that a bunch of our readers, our fellow podcasters.

We're going to hear the story of a urine-soaked fight with Dracula, some extremely dark teenage

poetry, an epic high school valedictory address, and much more.

This stuff is weird, it is wonderful, and, like the experience of being a teenager itself,

this stuff sometimes only makes sense in retrospect.

So think about who you were, when you were a kid, and stick around.

Our next reader, Ryan grew up in northwestern Ontario. And in his final year of high school, Ryan was chosen by his peers to be the valedictorian of their

graduating class. At our Toronto show, more than two decades after he first wrote and delivered

it, Ryan shared the speech he gave on graduation day to the class of 96.

Hi, I want you to all know that I hate you

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