A letter from Mar 03, 2025

Dear FutureMe, life seems bleak, I see no point in building a life for myself, other than helping people, there is no purpose or reason to live. I'm sitting in a library, learning Ukrainian in hopes to travel there, volunteer among organisations and eventually joining the war effort as a soldier. My parents think I'm at school, studying to fix my miserable grades that have been in consistent decline like my mental health. I try not to feel sorry for myself, there's just no point and that's not the kind of man I am, or the one I want to be at least. My parents think I'm going to the gym to get healther, no I just don't want to drag down whoever has the bad luck of having to rely on me. I think the only exciting idea is to find wonders in imagination, and helping people. I look at my siblings and I don't feel much at all, it's a painful emptiness I know should be filled with love. I don't think I have empathy or love at all, my instinct to help just comes from a place of wanting to be needed. As Nick Valentine said, "But being out here with you I realized, it wasn't about taking down Winter, it wasn't about Nick, -or Jenny, not even you and me! It was about justice. It was about doing the right thing, and that act of goodness, is ours. All those things, those cases all the good things, they are ours, and ours alone! Even if that's the only thing in this world that I can ever claim as mine, Not Nick's, not the institute's, but mine, then I can die happy." It feels almost philosophical, as if the only true ownership you can have is the goodness you've done, that's what you can claim as rightfully yours, the consequences of your actions belong to you. I find it meaningless to own anything else if it doesn't make me happy. I love architecture but I hate pretty houses, I can appreciate science but what practical does it do for anyone, can you explain to the starved that we might have found a planet we can live on if we manage to travel a hundred million lightyears? And I'm not better either, all my life I've lived the lifestyle of a parasite, that's the reason I can't **** myself, it'd be utterly pathetic and immoral, it also makes me want to die for a cause, and I know that it is a selfish drive since the idea to live for something is exhausting. So far I haven't been able to but it might have changed yesterday. The only reasonable way forward is to stop prioritising myself at all. I ******* hate the condition of our world, always pain everywhere. No reason for me to be happy knowing the world isn't better because of it, even if I grew old I'd feel an emptiness in my heart, that all the love in the world couldn't fill. Knowing I could have done better will always haunt me unless I live the lifestyle that only fulfills one aspect of life. I'm not entitled to a life, I don't want it either, I just happened to live and I have to earn ***** before I go. My only chance at finding true wonder, the thing that seems to redeem my place as human seems to be the Claudia, an angel residing among clouds, great white feathered wings with a heavenly warmth. I'd never believe in angels but seeing one makes me happier. I feel as I've lived my own life several times now. The same day all over. Time for a change.