a time capsule.

This is you, a short 15 year old girl who has not a single plan for life, a girl who is always anxious and indecisive, a girl who is currently ignoring piles of missing assignments just to write a letter to someone she will never meet. Well, yes, I will never logically meet you. I will become you. And one day I'll read this letter, maybe in college, maybe laughing at embarrassing memories this letter brings back, maybe crying tears of emotion, or whatever. Maybe you're just reading it normally, in bed, your hair tied up in the same ponytail mine is in right now. Maybe I'm looking too far into it, I don't know. How's life? Are you stressed? Maybe nothing changed. Do you have new, better friends? Maybe you even have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, for all I know. I hope you feel content. Even if life isn't the way I wish it would be as you're reading this, if you're chill with it, I guess it's fine. Are you an artist? Maybe a writer? Maybe something completely out of my comfort zone? All I long for is that you are satisfied with whatever you are right now. Because I'm not. I'm not satisfied with the way I am right now. I would write more but I guess I can't really ignore those heaping piles of assignments any further. Oh, and I hope the pandemic is over. I can't stand staying inside all day when the weather looks like the opening of those pretty coming of age films. Stay safe, eat your vegetables, I love you, and goodbye.