A letter from July 14th, 2020

Dear FutureMe, Yo Yo Yo whats piggity poppin way future me! I hope you aren't dead because that would be low key cringe considering our less than stellar suicide record (0-4). But I digress, did you graduate college? Did you move out yet? Are you still paying for spotify premium? If you are then you're still an idiot. Do you still talk like you're stuck in 1988? Do you live in a small apartment with a dog? Did you join the Space Force to fight against the alien menace? Did all of your dreams crumble right in front of you? Did you go on that soul searching journey that involves you voluntarily becoming homeless? Or are you gonna hold off on that one? Do you actually have friends yet? Did you get a girlfriend or boyfriend? I'll honestly take either at this point. Is adulthood as crushing as I imagine it? Did you get that amazing tattoo yet? You know the one. Answer my rhetorical questions! The fact of the matter is, (do you still say that?) I love you and hate you. Neither of us know what the future holds, but we both know that whatever terrible situation life throws at us we'll weasle our way out of it, no matter what. Much love way future me, You.