A letter from June 9th, 2020

Dear FutureMe, Dear Leina, It is Monday, June 8th 2020 11:11 PM. 11:11 is a number you have come to know well over the course of a wonderful and painful year. There were the growing pains of leaving the love that you had found, because you knew you deserved better. You felt off center, and knew you needed to surround yourself with the people that would lift you at such a critical moment. When your heart felt heavy, you would listen to music, run, do yoga, explore, and practice self love. I believe that you got there this year. It takes work to stay there, but you tried your best to stay true to what brought you joy. Furthermore, to stay focused on your goals of finding a job. Things were looking so up - from weekly adventures into the city, to late night ‘Feb Club’ events where you let loose. Reminiscing on these times, the beauty of our last moments of senior year feel particularly heightened. Right up until the way your friends rallied to help you move out of your house. Despite how you felt through most of your journey at Penn, you grew. You found love and community. You cried up until the first rest stop back home, thinking of the people you wouldn’t see for a while, and the unfinished goodbyes. If this taught you anything, it’s to not take life for granted. I don’t think you did. Nothing felt better than a run back from town, the sun breaking through tree leaves into magic golden patchwork patterns. Nothing was more cherished than a long conversation with a friend. In Philly, you explored every corner when you had the chance. All of a sudden, everything stopped. You left all the people you learned to love, to live out the rest of your senior year in a sickly isolated state. Yes, the icing on the cake to three months of quarantine was a three month lung disease nobody could figure out how to solve. Uncertainty topped off with greater uncertainty: Did I have the virus? Would I live? It sounds ridiculous, but after three months of not breathing well, one begins to wonder. On top of uncertainty, there’s the loose ends: the lack of closure for the place that took so long to feel like home. I turned 22 and graduated, celebrating all on Zoom. I can’t say it’s the same, but I’ll never forget the way this feels. You now know how it feels to be still. I still don’t know what to make of it. I’m upset, a bit withdrawn, but grateful that in all this I have future plans for work. I’m beginning to have my health. But what I wouldn’t give to go for a run along the Schuylkill, or walk into the city to go to yoga one more time. I’m anxious with anticipation for the kinds of adventures we will have. There is little to do except think of the future, and hope it's brighter than the utter turmoil happening now. The whole country is literally burning, but my mind dreams of future questions. Who will we be? Will we be happy? Who will we love? Call it escapism, but right now, there is nothing but blank canvas in front of me. I am terrified, but can’t wait for life to begin. I hope it will be even better than this chapter. Then again, at the beginning of the year, I could have never predicted the complete disaster the year became - the pandemic and police brutality. It’s awful. And yet, my life is still going on. I’m trying to figure out how to make the most of it, how to make myself less anxious. I’m going to try to have fun while I still can. I hope that you are making the best of things, no matter where you are. I hope that you continue to manifest things that matter to you: love, friendship, success. These are such basic wants I’m pretty sure everyone has. However, if you have secured all of them, then play. Have fun with life. Don’t take it seriously. Keep learning for the heck of it. When you get this letter, remember this time in our life. How horrible it was, and the beauty leading up to it. If you ever find yourself at rock bottom, remember to have a growth mindset. (read that one in a book recently) Life gets better if you focus on gradual effort and improvement. Do not take it for granted. Lastly, I’m not leaving any bucket list concrete plans except to see the world, and fall in love with it. I don’t know what I want yet, and that terrifies me. But as a mud Buddha crossing the river, I’ll keep focusing on the now until the future becomes a bit clearer. I love you, Me