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A letter from October 8th, 2019

Dear FutureMe,

I'm writing from two days before midterms. You have been terrified for them but for some reason, you can't bring yourself to do anything.

And it sucks because all that's done for you is caused you to relapse into your self-harm habit and to hate yourself.
People believe in you and everything you do makes you feel like you're letting them down.

I can't offer you any advice. I can't tell you it's going to be okay. I can only hope they weren't bad, that you made it through and you're doing better soon. I hope you finally picked up the courage to talk to mum and dad about how you've been feeling lately. They love you, they'd do anything for you. And they believe in you more than anyone could. You really got lucky, your parents are great.

I can't imagine myself a year from now. I can't imagine you existing, but I hope you do. I know you're hurting, I know everything feels dull and meaningless. But we agree, don't we? We're not going to lose to ourselves. I hope you're alive, I hope you're happier. I hope you're applying to college like you're so excited to, you massive nerd.

You are loved and your worth does not depend on your grades. A year from now, I hope you believe that.

I don't believe any of this. Right now, I'm sitting over my notebook in which I've tried to do some math today. I don't believe that people won't think I'm stupid or worthless if I screw this up. I don't believe any of this won't matter in a few years. I know it to be objectively true but you know me. I'm not good enough for myself. I'm scared I'll never be good enough for myself.

The person I am today is a far cry from the person I so desperately hope to be and I can't expect myself to be her in just one year. I hope you've made some progress. Any progress. Even if it's the tinest thing, I hope you've done something.

You've spent so many years being unhappy. I hope you can remember the last time you laughed or the last time you smiled. I hope you feel excited. I hope that you want to live.

Because right now, the only thing keeping me going is the possibility that it might get better. You've always tried to be optimistic and it usually backfires. I hope that this time, it's different.

Love,
Me from 2019.

Sent 1 year to the future from October 8th, 2019 to October 8th, 2020

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