A letter from Jan 13, 2026

Dear Future Me, I never quite get good at writing these letters, but I always keep writing them, so I guess that's got to stop mattering at some point. Anyway, I hope you're doing well. At the very least, I hope you're not dead on the side of the road, or worse, alive on the side of the road. There's not much I can really do in the state I'll eventually be in, being an echo in a letter, but I guess I'm obligated to try anyway, despite how much I'd clearly love to sit here and write out vaguely poetic statements. This letter is expected to come back by the end of the school year, which all things considered, is not even remotely enough time for anything significant enough to change for this letter to be worth the time, so I guess I might as well give you something vaguely poetic to waste more of your time. Maybe by the time you get this letter back, you'll have moved on from everything you find presently stupid, and do something truly beautiful in your life. Perhaps you'll create the true spiritual successor to the Mona Lisa, or perhaps you'll invent the solution to world hunger, or cancer, or aging, or maybe all of it at once. Alternatively, you could also be the youngest and brightest legal philosopher, and philosophize(?) so hard they have to make a sequel to philosophy, just so the first philosophy doesn't get annihilated in a terrifyingly amazing, awe-inspiring explosion, that might probably be actually worth triggering, but not worth your own ego. If anything, I hope you forget what I said a few lines earlier, and start having that to look forward to. Yeah, go henceforth, and destroy philosophy for me, please. That would be really amazing, if only because it'd be really terrible for everyone involved.