A letter from June 21st, 2018

Time Travelled — almost 3 years

Peaceful right?

Dear FutureMe, So, right now, I'm sitting in Josh and I's shared bedroom in his mom's house. I just finished my first reflection journal for the first 50 hours of my practicum at SVC. I concluded this reflection by saying that I don't want to work in campus life. So, I guess that's something. I'm broke as fuck, in so much debt I could cry, and I'm not in the best physical shape. But I also have a family I love, a wonderful man by my side, and friends that mean the world to me. So, life's not bad. Sometimes I think back to when I was like 13 or 14-- did I envision my life as it is now? I'm so fucking proud of myself for the things I've overcome-- I have a college degree, I'm halfway through grad school, and i finally have a reliable mode of transport. I think little teenage me would be pretty amazed at where I am now. So, who knows where I'll be in 3 years? Will I be close to an assistant director of residence life position? Will i even pursue residence life as my first job? There's still so much uncertainty in my life, but I'm not scared of it. So, in three years from now, I'll basically be old. Just kidding. But I'll be closer to thirty. Which is when I said I'd want kids. How will I feel in three years? Will I have a better idea of whether or not I actually want to have children? I think I chose thirty because by that time I should know what the hell I want in life, right? I'll be more stable financially I hope, and I'll be ready to decide if I want to have a child. Who knows. I'm only 22 right now, not yet 23. On another note, I realllllly don't care about any more of my birthdays. Maybe 25 because car insurance or whatever. I guess I'm a little scared of aging-- It means losing touch with youth, getting more wrinkles, and physical deterioration. But even when I get this letter I'll still be in my twenties so maybe I should stop being so morbid. Okay, I'm seriously getting annoyed by myself, so I'll wrap this letter up. I guess this will be a neat little surprise in my inbox three years from now. Maybe I can do this again after I receive this one. PS thanks Pantsuit Politics for telling me about this. Hopefully your podcast is still going strong in 3 years. Or, ideally, Beth and Sarah will be running the country in some capacity. FUCK Donald Trump. okaythanksbyeeeee

Epilogue

about 1 year later

It's kind of a weird feeling to read this as a 26-almost-27-year old. I've been through so many changes in almost five years that I view my 22-year old self...

Lwli sa vïena a so nwo! ersay yuo i nceiamdp to oalblg do + gessu veif hatt. .
.
Am johs teteswahre i whit ym colhso opsi:rle hghi rnloeg no. My rof illanyf edn pu hbot i i haev of cuold edend deddeci teh ihwhc h,socol atsl uegadtra sebt sreotihnlaip ni ea-d-m of uor su cnoidies arye nbige ot. Tujs erwe adn etorh hotgteer hcae pynpauh icedilbrny we ofr rwneet' ew ghrit. Heop yesra i well ndoig eerht now to he's tbu in tev'ahn i sponke him. .
.
An ym at terinn ot tme i lreisop r;feind wsa a nda wno eh laayctlu yeasr ferebo eonsome i wsa eaimrrd :ii ewnh 'mi tawmlra ptra best emgrana. Frist cndorceeten cisascl eesadgms on wsa app agdtin the a dan ew hgitn ormf "___ i imh "?wmaltar. Aheprs in a owsv my wgedndi enedd htat pu aosl. .
.
Sifinh ym fo job out of loosch i !)!(! am utabo gdrateua ftrsi ot 3 arey. Actf tsgncaiiifn tslli tath erisa tynirg i is eroscps ceapdetc a othrane hatt m'i ypa onsitpio hte ot nterycel. .
.
In pu dne did dlowu ahah el;if hgtohtu eht i noossdge ttah ta i ton hnkta den hatt tacf esdineecr hpinpaegn up. .
.
Ho emti wya in navigh 'mi osno etehs'r h,eay no kisd yna lehl. Hidl,c ni o!?nymoce fi i'ts i htis a vahe oedn do neo nad. .
.
Aws tbauo noe tspa i tnh:ig my slao, amyorne arec yrabtihds dt'no outab em hitgr. I to i ohw dlo time ahlf vaeh am tkihn tobau eth. .
.
Em gniag, amebrce tpar has si it eranoht em of ot of itsh btu ryorw gntyri uabot arpt lltis. Flie eepneeirxc lgufatre nda ma seomc i yreev rfo yad iwth aeg msiodw whhci. Ensymilem oitnec erac i utoba taht i tseohr fo tahw titsagrn oyregnu dlrgugtes to me htkin hiwhc a sa mawon hitw ma ssel i. Og ta illw bit; nad me piaentt uyo eth i nitaetp egnib to ot litlte tseven a rea lno"eos but if suck feli orme rtenec reings" ltsil eb gihnecat etl. .
.
I hope fo in nad hrteso nca rtspa rade tath stih ees lheevssmet thsi. Tsrif cgnehsa rewe iedxepencre encsi ni my ym i reays; ubt ifdiulftc fevi tlrete orwte setmi ash emso lefi motlys a otlams as lsaytv pmdrivoe a-yr22eld-o trowgh evi' dna eemsmni. I rtue tou and moatsl to alpn twnead hogttuh neno ohw nidcrpitsoe ti ifel fo neo meca thsoe adn tou we)w(h! nuynf wya aply ym wdulo st'i. .

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