A letter from October 5th, 2020

Dear FutureMe, I wrote you so many letters. I kinda feel bad for you now. The first time I ever wrote a time traveling one, I was 12 and I asked for my 16 year old self an emancipation, that never happened (laughs). You have been through a lot. You were a lot. There was the “I wanna die” fase, the “I harm myself” fase, the eating disorder fase, the self loathing fase and the drug experience fase. Unfortunately those weren’t fases at all, well the drug one was the exception, but the other ones were the only constant. Being depressed stopped being a fase when I was 11, and started being a personality trait. I don’t see myself coming out the other way, safe and sound. I don’t even want to. I feel like, if I am living too much of a good life something must be wrong, and it always is. This sadistic habit grew and it is who I am now. I am sending you this letter today because I want to know, who you are. I want you to tell yourself, who’d you become. Are you still depressed? Do you fulfilled my wildest dreams? Do you like your job? What’s your job? Did any of our loved ones died? Do you have a life partner? Are you alone? So many questions, but unfortunately the person who hears the answers, won’t be me. We are not the same, I’m not you. I’m who you used to be and who seized to exist and only left behind pieces. Pieces that you have to glue together. So tell me, are you broken still or do you found a way to take all of the pieces and finally make them out to be something? Did you give up and ended up being an unresolved puzzle? Are you a picture that want’s to exist or do you simply be? Ps. Do not give up. Learn more languages. Build more apps. Travel, eat the weird airplane food that you weirdly enjoy. Tell a loved one that you love them. And don’t ever forget to be your unapologetically self. I love me, can you say it back?