A letter from Jan 5th, 2022

Time Travelled — 12 months

Peaceful right?

Dear FutureMe, It’s January 5th, 2022. I’m not happy. I feel really lost and without purpose. I love Rich but all I do is fear his *****. I’m still plagued by my childhood. My dad didn’t just steal that part of my life from me. He also is stealing my happiness, my peace even today. Healing from that kind of trauma doesn’t happen overnight, I know that. But I at least wish the nightmares would end. I just want to be happy and normal. I sit at home all day. I try to go into the office to help Rich but I still don’t feel fulfilled. I hate the winter. I hate feeling so stuck and unhappy. I just want my life to have meaning. I want to love rich without the fear of losing him. I want to take pictures and people to see the pictures I take as beautifully as I see them. I want someone to recognize my talent. I want to want to live. This weight is so heavy. I’m scared to deliver this in 5 years because if Rich is dead in five years I know that this letter will be soul crushing. I miss my brother. I hope that in a year I’m happier because right now I couldn’t be farther from it. I hope my asthma is better too and I’m on vyvanse. I hope I have more friends. I hope I feel closer to Jesus. It’s been about a month since I attempted suicide. It seems as though everyone has already forgotten. I haven’t. I still think about how depressed I am. I still think about wanting to die. Those feelings are just being suppressed because I’m motivated to feel happy right now. But once that motivation is gone I imagine that those feelings will come back to the surface. I hope that tomorrow is a better day than today. I hope that this year is happier than the last. I hope I find purpose and a reason to like being alive outside of just Rich. I hope my anxiety of losing him gets a bit quieter. I just really need God to intervene not just in my life but in my mind. Future me, I hope you’re happier than present me.

Epilogue

about 2 years later

It’s February 5th, 2025. To the old me that was soul crushingly sad and led...

,hrhucc ear aatsry onw yb oyu het ahpyp. Etfl su rcih. Hhrucc us eht eltf. Heor dan woeodsp wsa ni dya… surnt oyu ot eth saev uot, the. Oyu evasd you. Ew for eahv our ’eerw aevh own ureckt a we gnikrwo wno tve, peat,ratmn. Lal ende we eewr’. It rthhgou yuo ogt lla. Hepl you dan htat! !byabe ddi otg lal ouy uoy it covaemer euvrdsvi fo. Ouy oryu rorddise geaman olipbar. Adn tinomaseidc to ouy heatryp no og syat. Are aevadoct now ouy ryou. Uoy hero eerw odrpu htis am hte i wleho so imte yuo fo uoy deende dna. Pyahp dan bybea iseucointf si ’wree ispneasph our. Kate rof yuse,oflr of dvatocea ouy you ,fsyroeul you eolv eslyurof aerc. Veah os ucmh uoy doen. Idd ti all yuo. ,lal oyu it beaby did.

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