A letter from March 15th, 2021

Dear FutureMe, I hope your life is better than mine. I don't know if I (you?) still use this address. Hell, I don't even know if I go by Avery anymore. I don't know anything right now. The only good year of my life since middle school is ending. College pressure is picking up. It's all I can do to keep my head above water for one more year. One more year. You're graduating college, and I don't even know where from. I can't imagine. I can't wait. Being 22 is a weird thought. I don't even think I can imagine 5 years, just like I can barely remember what it was like to be 12, in sixth grade! I must have changed so much. I hope I have. I can't keep going like this. Part of me is worried I'm writing this letter to a version of myself that doesn't exist. I wasn't really expecting to write this much, it's just some suggestion Ms. Knopfler made in poetry. I hope my fears seem microscopic and stupid. I hope everything works out and I hope I make it long enough to watch it. I'm rooting for you. Avery (3/15/2021)