Hug my mom

After that I’d probably start the process of establishing that I’m trans, and I’d actually study and put effort into applying to good schools as time goes on.

The real question, I guess, would be how to strike out on my own as a literal child. School was repetitive the first time, and my home life was pretty mid as well.

Funny story, I think I actually had enough savings at that point to live on for a month or two. I was a weird kid.

Convince my parents to put all their money in some fruit company about apples.

I’d spend a lot of its mourning that I’d never be able to replicate my daughter as she is now. I could time it right to get the right egg, but how many wanks, exactly, and when did I have? How could I possibly even guarantee the right sperm even if I manage to secure the same payload?

Probably instead just ride the bitcoin wave hard as hell and start my own game dev company.

Also I’d be better equipped towards mad anxiety disorder. That shit absolutely ruined my life and it took about 3 years before I realised something was actually wrong.

Go to the library a lot. Learn and master the art of lock picking. Make more friends at school (networking). Wear crocs way before they’re cool.

In 1976 give mom and dad a list of large corporations to buy stock in for for my Christmas and birthday gifts. Well into adulthood, buy Bitcoin. Tell my grandmother to go to her doctor and start cancer treatments.

I’d go insane

I would wanna see what all this IRC stuff is all about

Talk my mom into putting us into a better school. Cry because I have to be a kid again. Be an academic hyperachiever, then get ridiculously early onset Alzheimer’s at like 30 years old.

Estrogen. If that plan fails (and it probably would) then DIY orchiectomy. And if that plan fails (and it might) or is otherwise counteracted then I would die by my own hand.

The situation of my eight-year-old self is antithetical to the being of my current mind. My knowledge and understanding would force me to take certain paths and many of them lead to situations beyond my make-it-stop threshold. Is it better to walk to one’s doom unknowingly, or to be dragged beaten ragged and screaming into the confinement of hell?

1985.
It's 4 years before my first D&D game.
3 years before I pick up a guitar.
10 years before I start snowboarding.
20 years before I convince my republican parents there's a better way. 
Suddenly I am fluent in several languages, as if by magic.
I have a grasp on global politics and the knowledge of what's to come.
What do I do?
Play.
All day.
I swim. I run. I bike. I draw. I skate. I be. 

And I plot. 

First, I would convince some of those old crazy ass mercenaries that my uncle used to hang out with that Donald Trump touched me. This would be in 1992. Then I’d work my ass off mowing lawns and doing chores and saving every bit of money I could, invest in apple and other big stocks that I could get as they came out before they hit big, id sell them and invest in Tesla before Elon could get in on it, and Bitcoin. Id use my wealth to invest in solar so that it takes off earlier. Create a Superfund to counter lobbyists like the dark roofing lobby. What a completely asinine thing. Just switch to making white roofing materials? Use my wealth and power to become president, reverse citizens United and bring back a 90% tax on the wealthiest people. (Yes, Including myself.) Boom. World saved.

Let’s see so it’s '02, which means I’m powerless to try to stop 9/11. That’s pretty much my only time travel plan, it’s my “kill baby Hitler”, so that sucks.

Play ragnarok online.

Am I eight years old now in 2025, or eight years old way back then?