A letter from Aug 11th, 2021

five years. 1825 days. thats a long time. you're 24. i hope you're travelling, that you moved to New York like you always wanted to. hopefully you love your job, but it's ok if you don't. as long as you can help mum and live your rich life, its all worth it. maybe you've had your fairytale meet-cute by now. right now, it seems like its impossible, opening up is hard. i know that I'm too much for some people but I'm ok with that, it just gets difficult when i think I'm too much to be loved. but i love myself so thats ok. it feels weird typing that. but right now, for probably the first time in my life, its true. i thought i did for years, but that wasn't love. that was hiding, and hating. thinking back to those nights with the crying and the hate and the sad songs about dying, it doesn't seem real. like they are someone else's memories. but that was you and me. and we're still here. I'm still in uni, just going into second year. i still have no idea what i want to do. most people say teaching, but i don't like children, you know that. you've graduated, if you didn't drop out hahah. no, you'd never do that, too many people to disappoint. hopefully you don't have kids yet. not until at least 28 remember. and no marriage. never. its a waste of money and if he really loves you, you'll know. i hope you're still a minimalist. remember to focus on experiences and people. love people, use things remember: all thats left after you're gone is you're impact on other people so, last of all, be kind. to yourself, to others. i know you can forget sometimes. i hope you're still blaming it on your star sign. live your minimalistic, rich, wonderful life i love you