A letter from July 19th, 2020

Dear FutureMe, Hey. I’m not quite sure how else to start something that’s only being sent to myself. I don’t know what’s been going on lately. Things have just been....shitty. To say the least. It’s nights like these, where I just feel so out of place. So unloved. So...unseen? These last few weeks have been hard on me. Mentally, physically, everything-lly. I don’t know what else to do anymore. It feels like everything is starting to cave in, and it’s just getting harder and harder to breathe. It’s like.....it’s like everyone around me is living this perfect reality. They’re happy. They're in love. They’re being social. Whereas I? I’m just living in a fantasy. It doesn’t last. The happiness? It’s temporary. The perfect life? Temporary. The perfect everything....? Well, you get the picture. At times, I find myself asking “is it really even worth it?”. And it’s hard not to ask yourself that question when everything and everyone around you...is fine. But then, as soon as you focus in on yourself? You realize that you can never have that. You can never be THAT happy and content. Because there will always be that voice. Asking you “what if?” You know? I don’t think I’ll ever have my “Happy Ever After”. Someone like me doesn’t get one of those. I’ve been trained to think that who I am right now, isn’t good enough. Not unless I change myself first. Not unless I look a certain way. And it fucking hurts. Because all I want in life, is to be happy. That’s all. But, apparently, being happy is too much to ask for. You’d think I’d know better by now. Not to be a dreamer. But I can’t help it. It’s the only thing that’s keeping me going anymore. I just don’t know what to do. I’ve been dreaming for so long, that I’m too scared to really wake up. And truly face it. What a cruel world, Kayla. And I’m sorry that you’ve been handed this part of it. For what it’s worth? I think you’re a good person. But, then again, we are the same person. I hope you’re well. Well....I hope you’re fighting, at least. I love you. (funnily enough, I don’t remember the last time I’ve been told that.)