A letter from Oct 29, 2025

Dear FutureMe, I met someone in London, his name is A***. It's been a really long time since I've felt this way towards anyone – I truly didn't think I'd ever find it in me to open myself up to anyone again – and it is nothing short of terrifying. It's terrifying because this feels different to what I'm used to; it feels calm and safe and steady, and I'm used to chaos, inconsistency, mixed signals, toxic dynamics. He felt like home. I was unapologetically myself the whole time we were together, and he didn't run away. He didn't make me feel the need to twist or shrink myself into something different; I felt safe just being myself, and I welcomed every side of him too. We're very different people in a lot of ways, but somehow all the different sounds still blended into a really nice symphony. I really think we would've had a shot to build something great together... but we ran out of time, and I'm heading to the other side of the world. This feels like a common thread in my life recently: I keep running out of time. Always somewhere long enough to start something beautiful, but never long enough to finish it. Constantly on the run, except I have nothing to run from but myself. So I guess I'm sending this to myself in the hopes that maybe I'll break that pattern. And that maybe, just maybe, by the time I read this, A*** and I will have met again.