A letter from May 10, 2025

Dear FutureMe, Its your birthday coming up, Its my first time write this letter to you (ME) from your room's view. Have you been travelling, what languages do you speak, what hobbies did ya add up. How are fam doing?? Did you get a job?did u started a business? Maybe I’m writing this because I need to believe you exist — that there’s a version of me who made it out of this fog… this ache… this endless weight I carry inside my chest. Right now, everything feels like too much and not enough at the same time. I feel like I’m screaming underwater — and no one can hear me. I laugh sometimes. I function. I even smile. But inside, it’s hollow. And I hate that no one sees it. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know where I’m going. Some days I don’t even know if I want to be anywhere at all. But even in the middle of this… this storm, I’m still here. Still breathing. Still hoping that you — the future me — are out there. Maybe you’ve found peace. Maybe you’ve built a life you don’t want to escape from. Maybe you’ve stopped pretending to be okay just to make others comfortable. I hope you've: Found someone who sees you. Truly sees you. Let go of the guilt, the shame, the self-hate you used to carry like armor. Finally looked at yourself and said, “I’m worth loving, just as I am.” And if you haven’t? If you're still fighting? Then keep going. Not because you owe anyone anything. But because some part of you still believes there’s more than this pain. And that part of you deserves to be heard. I’m not writing this to inspire. I’m writing this to survive. So if you’re reading this… thank you for staying. Thank you for not giving up on us. Thank you for becoming the person I’m still afraid I’ll never be. With everything I have left, Me — the version who is breaking, but writing anyway. IF YOU'VE GOT THIS WRITE AGAIN TO YA FUTUREME ~xoxo