A letter from February 27th, 2021

Dear FutureMe, When you receive this email, it will be the 5th year anniversary of your having read A Little Life. I however, am writing this from the day after I've finished reading it, because I really couldn't process anything. I slept on and off for 10 hours last night. I missed both my classes. I have never felt so bad after finishing a book. I have never felt so destroyed by something. And you know, I'm not entirely sure if it's a good thing or not. I cut myself two nights ago — for the first time in what probably was 2 years. I can't actually remember, to be frank. I don't remember when I do or don't cut — I nearly always want to. I remember those times often. I don't necessarily know that I care that I relapsed. But I hope that you, at 21, have stopped. I hope for you, at 21, are doing okay. I don't really know why I'm writing this. At first I thought I'd send something to put a time in to let myself know that when I get this, I can tell Mila that I've self harmed. I felt like if she's stuck around for another 5 years then she deserves to know. But maybe she won't want to. She probably won't. Who wants to know about that? Really? Maybe we won't still talk, though for some reason, I doubt that. And I hope that when you get this, you smile to yourself because you've become closer than ever. I hope that you're grinning as you read this, because by this time, we've met each other and you/I love her more than ever and we're closer than ever and so many more things. I love her to the moon and back now, but I would love it if we stayed friends for years and years to come. I would love to talk to her until I die. Along with people like Jade, of course. But Mila. Mila, Mila, Mila. I wonder if they've changed their name? I wonder if they've decided that they or she is a better pronoun for them. I wonder where we're all living? Are you in a ballet company? Did that disability come that you've been wishing for? Are you at university? Are you acting? Are you something that you never imagined for yourself? I feel awful. I feel horrific right now. But I want to be alive to get this email. I want to be alive to know that I'm alive and to know Mila and Jade in five years time. I want to stay alive It's now night. I wrote the first part of this in the morning before my ballet class. Now, now it is half nine and I'm tired. But at the same time I'm not. I'm still feeling awful, but maybe that's alright. Tomorrow is Sunday. Tomorrow I need to get things done. I barely did anything today — but I did class. I re-shaved my head yesterday, so I came into class with my hair shorter again today; Miss Fry seemed unhappy, I hope she'll forgive me. I don't want our time together to end up with her unhappy. I'm going to miss her. She's done so much for me. You know that, obviously. You know that. Do you still talk to her? Do you remember how much she cared for you? Do you think of her often? I hope you do, she deserves that. If you haven't spoken to her in awhile, you should send her a message now. Stop. Stop reading here. Send her a message. She'll appreciate it. You'll appreciate it. She deserves it. I like writing these. I like the idea that I one day will read how I felt all these years ago. I like the idea that things could be better, the idea that I've made it all these years, the idea that I could be more intelligent, more skilled. I like the idea that I could be happier. Sometimes I think that I'm a very unhappy child. Sometimes I wonder if I can still call myself a child. I feel very alone right now. I'm not alone. There are people who care about me. I care about people. That is a definite. I am not alone. But I feel lonely. Or maybe empty. Or maybe isolated. I don't know. But I'm not happy. But maybe I don't need to be. Maybe happiness is overrated. There are better things in life, without a doubt. But happiness could be nice. But now I'm being dramatic. I am happy. All things considered. I'm happier than most. I'm happier than I could be. I'm happier than I was at 12. I'm happier than so many. I'm happier than I think I am. I'm safe. Are you safe? Have there been points in your life when you've not been safe? Have you ever been unsafe because of our *********? our race? How is the state of the world? How are you? am I? I hope things are better by the time you/I read this. I hope things are better, I hope you're happy. I hope you're surrounded even more by people who love you. I hope everyone you love is still alive. I hope everything is mostly okay. I hope you're dancing in a ballet company, or you're doing something else that makes you feel good. I hope that you have friends. Do you have a lover? Have you had a lover? Do you still like the word lover? If you have/had a lover, do they like the word? Did you ever date Jade? How about Mila? Any friend? I wouldn't be surprised if you've never dated anyone. Sometimes I think maybe I shouldn't. I don't think I'd be a great partner. I don't think I would be someone that someone else could fall in love with. I think I could love someone, sure, but I think I might frustrate someone too much. I think I might be too difficult to deal with. I think that I might cause more damage than good. I wouldn't be surprised if I never have a lover. But sometimes I would like one. I read books, I watch movies, all these people my age dating people, loving people, holding people. It sounds kind of nice. But I don't know if I ever want to do it. I want to be a good friend. Are you a good friend? Do you take care of your friends? You should, if you don't. I doubt that you don't. I think I'm a decent friend. Not a fabulous one. Not an excellent person or anything like that. But I know that I will always be here for a friend. I know that I will listen and I will soothe and I will be kind. I may be boring, but I know I can be kind. I know I can be kind. I'm scared, do you know that? I'm scared that I will always disappoint people. I don't even know what I will disappoint people by doing, but I worry about it all the same. I worry and I worry and I worry. I don't want to disappoint, I don't want to hurt. I don't want to ruin things with or for another person. Sometimes I wonder if past lives are a thing and I wonder if I had a really terrible one, because I am so afraid of disappointing people or annoying people or hurting people. Or maybe I should be. Maybe I do disappoint, hurt and annoy people. I wouldn't be surprised. I wouldn't think it odd. I often feel like I'm a terrible person. Maybe I am. Maybe. I don't know. It's ten to ten. I think I might sleep. Or at least, lie here in the dark. Emo? Maybe. Tired? Definitely. Sad? We'll see. Please, please tell me we're not a horrible person. Please, please tell me things get better. Please, please tell me you're okay. Love, Your younger self PS. I've been thinking about writing a will. I think I might do that next week if I get the chance.