A letter from Apr 12, 2025

Dear FutureMe, Congrats, it's been a whole year. Or not, maybe the year was just too much. Writing this now, it certainly feels like the future isn't looking good. No grand ambitions. Working a dead-end ****** job, attending school hoping it'll amount to something. 25 years old with nothing to be proud of. Still living with parents. Can't leave the ****** town I've lived my whole life. I hope I don't blow my brains out between now and the time this email arrives. If I did, and this email is owned by Michael or Annie, I guess I'm sorry. Wasn't a good friend, and a good brother. Sending this as a vain hope that things will get better. Either one of you have better chance than I did. Both of you got things to look foward too, people to have by your side. I floundered every shot I was given. And probably gave up by the end. It's what I'm best at. Yep. I don't expect to make it. I really don't. Almost everyday I think about it. I could get help, but I doubt it'll change anything. Not much brings me joy anymore. I try to cope through writing, but I always found myself just staring at a blank google doc. My mind numb. My chest hurts. If you were scared that I bought a ***, you should be. I bought it as a backup plan. So yeah, If I'm alive. Congrats. I hope you left PSL, got a better job, or something. Anything. If not, tell Mom I'm sorry that I gave up. It's not her fault or Dads. They deserved a better son. I got nothing else to type. I don't even know why I'm doing this. Bye.