A letter from Feb 13, 2023

Dear FutureMe, I hope you still know english. If you're curious about how your past self is doing , I'm feeling pretty ******. I've been struggling for a while, and I'm slowly starting to lose a big percentage of my friends. It hurts to know that they don't feel comfortable hugging me anymore, that they don't confide in me like they used to, that we don't laugh together at our stupid jokes anymore. I really hope you're happy and I really hope that you made it this long. I've been thinking about hurting myself lately. I'm literally organizing my own *****, with suicide letters and cries at thinking about what I might leave behind. Still, as broken as my heart is about all of it, it doesn't seem like this is worth it. I failed the world, so now it's falling me back. I can't take it. I really hope you're still here. The thing is that I really don't want to do this, but at the same time I want to do it so bad that it hurts. Sometimes physically. So, if you're still here, if you went through the things that I consider impossible to go through, I want you to know that I am so proud of you. I don't know how you did it, but you did. YOU ******* DID IT, IOANA, YOU DID IT! I hope you'll get in your dream college, and I really hope you got into your dream high school. I hope you'll get to move out soon, to have a taste of freedom. I hope that now you're organized and stable, that you can finally study without being distracted, that you are working on a book to publish (if you didn't already do it), that you feel so much better and less miserable than I do now. Happy birthday, dear. Please, tell me that it is a happy one this time.