Hey Chris

Dear FutureMe, It's 9:14. You're taping Will and Grace. Not too much is going on. There are two days left until Christmas. Two days until you get all the worthless shit you've wanted. I wonder if in a year you'll still care about it. It's kind of strange. The whole idea of writing this upsets me. I don't want to think about the future. I don't want to move on. In a year, when I get this. So many things will have changed. A year ago (two years) you were talking to Peter. Hell, you were madly in love with Peter. Now there's Sam. Sure, he's in Virginia. But damn you feel good about this. Better than you did about Peter--I think. Damn, he lights you up. Your heart skips a beat when he signs on. You've only been talking for 6 months, but how amazing has it been. Here's to hoping the feelings you once have haven't faded. So not a fucking thing is going on other than Sam. Ryan and Jay are still lovey dovey over each other, and my family is still dysfunctional. It's two days before Christmas and we're all in a different room doing different things. Alone. You don't feel too lonely, and that's strange. As long as you can remember, if you weren't dating someone--which was more often than not--you were lonely. Maybe it's because of Sam. Maybe it's because you spend unhealthy amounts of time online talking to the Smart Clams. I don't know, but it's theraputic. Life feels strange. You keep wondering where you'll be in a year. Hopefully, you'll just be coming home from college. Maybe you'll be on the phone with Sam. Hell, maybe, if you're lucky, you'll be with Sam. Maybe you won't give a flying fuck about Sam. Maybe you're skinnier now. Maybe you've already gained the freshman fifteen. You're talking to Amy about her family... it makes you realize how awesome your family is, but at the same time how horrible they are. They love you, but they don't show it. Her family shows it, but in such different ways. Man, life is so fucked up. Bush revoked 180 M dollars to feed the homeless. It makes you feel just how damn lucky you are to be clothed, fed, and loved. Not just by your family, but by everyone. Ryan, Sam, Smart Clams, etc. Life is damn good. Life is damn scary. I'm scared to stop writing. I know that when I do, this will become part of me. Maybe in a year you can look back on this and laugh, but right now I can feel the fucking wrinkles forming and the hair falling out. I feel so upset about this damn fucking letter. What if I change? I don't want to. But I know it's doomed to happen. Ashley M. is annoying you. She keeps wanting to talk, but you're pushing her away. You don't know why. Why? Why the fuck do you keep rambling on about unimportant things. Why? Some just overshadows everything in your mind. That's all you can think about. You're crazy in love with him. You're worried that he's in love with James, even though you know that he loves you. You worry too damn much. Your wrists are hurting from typing. You just moved back to LiveJournal because Peter pissed you the hell off. You like being back. Vonni cares about you. But not the way you care about Sam. Right now you'd step in front of a truck for him. You'd fucking take a lethal injection if it meant he could live one extra minute. You feel so strongly, so compassionately... about someone you've never even met. You love Sam. It's 9:26. Two days until Christmas. Let's make this an annual thing, K? I'm purposely not saving this letter. You want it to be a surprise when you come home from UGA next year. You love Sam. It's 9:27. xoxo, Chris