A letter from Oct 31, 2025

Dear FutureMe, It's been two years since you were released from the ward. Maybe this isn't a reminder you want, but I feel like it's a reminder you should have. Life is messy. It has valleys and mountains with its fair share of stormy and sunny weather. When I got this same letter from my past earlier this month, it hadn't felt like a year had passed already. Sure, my scars had faded and I had started to mend the relationships I had torn away from in my deepest depths. But it still felt fresh. Like a wound that would never close. And maybe it won't, but I feel like thats for you to know. It took me a couple of therapy sessions to recognize the work I had done and how far I had come. I now only smoke at parties or when offered and don't cut, well, not since a couple weeks ago, but it had been almost six months until that point. That's something to celebrate no matter how insignificant my brain tells me it is. So maybe you're in Korea looking at the world through a different lens. Maybe you have dated and broken up with someone you are still getting over. Or you could just be taking it one day at a time, and that's something to marvel at too. I've said a lot this past month or so that I can't die before my 21st birthday, or before Trump (god I hope that guy is ******* dead by now). Now, for you, it's all about finding that next goal. Maybe it isn't focused on staying alive anymore but simply living, which is something I truly yearn for when I find my self in the pit of depression. Here's one thing I do know, depression might not get easier, but it sure as hell becomes more predictable. So take a look back on the girl who was paralyzed on the floor with apathy, planning to end it all and see how far you have come. She is definitely thankful you are alive, and I am too. Your past self