A letter from May 15, 2025

Dear My Future Self, I’m sorry for what I am today. Right now, I feel so lost. I loved someone so deeply, and now he’s gone. I couldn't save him, and that thought never stops hurting. I keep asking myself—why did I love someone like this? Someone I couldn't hold onto? But I did. I loved him. And I still do. I watched him die in my arms. I never imagined something like that could happen to me. His last words, his strength, the way he told me to be brave and keep living—it all haunts me. And yet... it keeps me alive too. Even now, I’m scared of people. I avoid them. I hide myself. My weakness feels like it stole the one person I loved most in this world. And I don’t know how to live with that. But I’m trying. Somehow. I started selling T-shirts. I don’t even know what I’m doing. Maybe it’s silly. Maybe it’s something. I’ve only sold a few, but it’s a start. Maybe it means I'm still here. That I’m still fighting, even if everything around me feels too fast, too big. I don’t want to die. But I don’t exactly want to live like this either. Still... I want to explore the world. That’s the part of me he believed in. That’s the part of me that wants to keep going. If you’re reading this now, I hope you're doing better. I hope you’ve made peace with some of this pain. I hope you’ve seen some beauty again. And if not... that’s okay too. Just promise me you’ll keep going. I’ll keep going too. Even if it’s slow. Even if it hurts. I’ll meet you there, someday. With love, me