I Swear To God You Insufferable Prick.

Dear Future Me, Hey, you. I hope you pulled it together. Right now, I'm a piece of work. I'm sitting here writing a letter to the future when I could be working on literally any of the 60 reports I need to be. I could clean my room, catch up on sleep or meals I'm depriving myself of for no good reason. There's no reason for any of this. And let's face it. Moving seemed like the best idea at the time, sure. But you and I both know that switching sides of the planet doesn't fix your habits, or mindset, or anything but your address really. Yes, I made a tough decision with rose-colored glasses. Of course I did, I was a kid. But I'm here now, knee-deep in my own issues, so I have to see it through. God, I hope you see it through. The vain side of me thinks it would be embarrassing to go back and say I failed, after rambling on about finding a new purpose for months. Somehow it pales in comparison to telling everyone here that I need to go back, first. I can't stomach the idea of looking at people who cheered me on and supported me in the eye, and telling them I just didn't want to try. I'm spiraling off topic as I usually do, but it's true. More importantly, there are people you need to do this for. She'll have passed by the time you see this. She wanted to see you succeed, you know. If she doesn't get to, do it in her god**** memory. Do it for him, too. Hell, do it for all of them. In December you'll take the test, and life will change from then on. What then? If you did the right thing, you don't have anything to worry about. If not, burn. There is no fantasy that could be worth more than your dream becoming reality, and no thing more worth working hard for than to prove everybody was right about you. Please, just try. You From A Year Ago