Dear Ten-Year-Old Anna,

Okay, this is weird, and I know you'll never read it because I'm you and you're me—wait, what? I mean, you're me in childhood and I'm you at nineteen. And believe me, everything's so much better now, younger me.

Right, yeah, this is weird to write, but Elsa insists I do this too—if she's doing it, then I'm doing it too. It's a way to see how far we had come since her coronation last year (it's been one year and one day now). We have agreed that when we are finished, we will read what the other has written for our younger selves. So here goes, ten-year-old Princess Anna!

So you'll think it weird that 19-year-old me is writing to 10-year-old you, but listen up—you'll be fine, Anna. You'll see Elsa again one day, and the road to finally being so close as you once were again won't be easy. You will have to make painful choices to do so—but it will be worth it. One day, you will know why Elsa's shutting you out, and she will be scared when you do find out, but she will be okay—mostly—again. I won't say what it is that's scaring her, because I know you'll run up to her door, banging on it, and shouting that you know her secret, and that will scare her senseless. Trust me, it would really, really upset her, and I—you—both of us—know that the last thing we want is to hurt Elsa in any way. (By the way, try not to ask her to build a snowman so much in the future, as it's linked to some painful memories you don't remember. Trust me. It's like a crazy trust exercise to trust your future self, but yeah. Just trust the crazy trust exercise.) But really, ten-year-old me, you did nothing wrong, it's not your fault that she's shutting you out.

I'll say this right now: Elsa has never stopped loving you, and she never will. So keep knocking on her door, keep talking to her, even if you just want to give up. Your talks to her through the door is keeping her going, keeping her from fully falling into her dark place. Please, please don't stop knocking on her door. I know one day you probably will, and you'll give up, but for the love of Olaf (you'll meet him way later and freak out and kick off his head because…well, you'll see), don't give up on Elsa. She may not talk to you much—if at all—but hearing your voice always helps her live through another day.

So please, please don't give up on her, even when you want to. Elsa needs you more than you know, than you understand, and trust me, you'll be close again one day. It won't be for a long time, but it will happen. I'm serious (whoa, that's a new one—Anna being serious.)

Once again with the crazy trusting your future self exercise, but trust me when I tell you this: be sure to cherish and love your parents every day. Give them lots of warm hugs—preferably daily and several times a day—chat all their ears off, and be sure to count every smile and words of love to you. They love you and have your best interests—as well as Elsa's—at heart. They love you so, so much.

In the future, though I know you'll dismiss it, remember that fairy-tale romances, as beautiful and fanciful as they are, may not be all they seem. Just remember that love isn't just about finding a Prince Charming, and sometimes Prince Charming may be anything but "charming" in real life. Sometimes you have to kiss a few diseased frogs (yeah, unfortunately your future self still stinks at metaphors) to finally find your knight in shining armour. And that knight might not be in armour, nor might he ride a horse. That knight might be an ice harvester who talks to his pet reindeer, but who knows. I might be wrong.

So now I'm going to finish right here, and I bet you anything Elsa's written one that's pages long, because she's so much more elegant—or whatever that word beginning with "e" is—you know, well-spoken—than I am. Though I suspect that hers would be bringing up a lot of painful memories, and I'm going directly to her after I finish this to give her the warmest hug of her life so far. She'll need one, I know it.

So, ten-year-old me, love your parents and Elsa and though it's going to still be really hard over the next several years, once you're eighteen it's going to get better.

Like way, way better.

Just wait a while longer and you'll see what I mean in another eight years.

Hang in there, Anna—or at least, ten-year-old me (wow, this is weird to write.)

Warm hugs and love,

Nineteen-year-old Princess Anna.

P.S. Love will thaw. These three words will be very important in another eight years. Remember them.