A letter from Aug 04, 2023

Dear FutureMe, When the tide is low, and the salty scent is all upon, the sand between the feels comes on, the sun enhancing and burning, summer is a gloomy winter, for winter is the summer feel, now i recall the early mornings, wished upon in a suicidal brain, it starts so pretty yet discerning, and i myself a bloom I'm yearning. it will never be the same, and you wont even recall. The most beautiful part in life is when you get to a point where you cant remember the memory or feel. I used to be scared of it, but now i wish for it. In years, months, days or hours life is life, and every minute i’m closer to *****. This is a waking dream, eyes wide open type of show, i sit patiently season after another and i wait for the surprise to show. Grasp what cant consume you, because thats weak. Are you better? when received you just read a clump of thoughts, how are you?