A letter from Apr 16, 2023

Dear FutureMe, I am writing from a place of sheer irritation about a speck of dust that ******* piled up in the corner. It was fairly noticeable but even if I keep on cleaning it up, it always finds a way to show its ******* presence and persist to annoy. These pieces too little to demand attention from our parents always clog up your nose. And when push comes to shove, we are left to suck it up–even **** as big as a tumbleweed. It has dirtied the wood on my bed and it does not care. It, continues to breathe the same air I do; live under the same roof as I do; and love the same dog as I do whom it has ******* crippled just about 2 days ago. We are healing: you and I, the past present and future you, but don't forget nor forgive what it did. The accumulation of the past gone unspoken will still never be heard, so feel no guilt of not speaking up. This is not a letter for you to relapse but a reminder of how you should work harder to get away from the hellhole this home has become. We will be okay.