A letter from Feb 13, 2025

Dear FutureMe, I’m doing this thing of writing to myself in the future because some TikTok tarrot witch made a video about it. I’m at work right now, a job I didn’t think I’d be suited for but it pays well, actually the most I’ve ever made a side from the DJ gigs back then. I have an acting gig coming up in two days. It will be my second paid speaking role. We had a table read last night and it was pretty cool, the other actors are talented and dedicated. A pimple appeared this morning on the bridge of my nose and I hope it will be gone before the shoot. I’ve been sleeping on the couch for a few days now. I find comfort in hugging the back rest. It’s been better than sharing a bed in a loveless marriage where we barely ever make physical contact except for the occasional ***. I’m not exactly sure where things are work wise and or in my personal life but I’m trying to keep the morale high and go about my artistic needs while juggling a full-time job. Things are so much better now than when I was homeless 20 years ago but I feel like I traded freedom and income insecurity for stability and loveless connections. It’s strange out here but considering the overall state of the world right now I guess things are still pretty good. I have this strange feeling like things will go to **** in the coming months but also work out great at the same time. Maybe I’m just delusional or maybe I’m overthinking just being alive and desperately trying to control the unknown for a false sense of safety in an attempt to reduce my anxiety. Living is complex but it beats being dead, I guess.