Time Travelled — over 6 years

A letter from May 24th, 2012

May 24, 2012 Dec 12, 2018

Peaceful right?

Dear Future Me, I hope you've received this letter. I think you will, but knowing me you probably have a few hundred unread e-mails in your inbox. This will probably end up buried under those hundreds of emails. Oh well. I'm fifteen at the moment, and you just turned twenty-one. I don't exactly know why I chose twenty-one as the age to send this to, we're Canadian and our legal age is eighteen. Perhaps it's because America has a higher population, and if we have money I'd like to go on a road trip through it for my 21st birthday. Perhaps it's because I feel eighteen is too close and the idea of being an adult so soon is daunting. I don't know. School's been rough. Social anxiety is a problem, I haven't gone in public without my trench coat since January, somewhere around there at least. I think Ashley's replaced me with Megan, which stings because she was my only friend. I don't care much though. I've never been good with people and, although I don't know what to do with my lunch hours and albeit she was the only person in school whose company I enjoyed, I can get along without her. She's just as disposable as everyone else. I'm still fat. It plays a big part in the trench coat thing. I don't know how much I weigh right now - but I'm guessing something between 124-127. Massive, I know. Hopefully you haven't seen anything above 110 for years. I look forward to finding out if I've grown a couple inches, too, - 5'9" is tall to some people but I'd like to be a little bit taller. Justin and I are approaching eight months. It seems so short compared to the year and a half with Jacob, but I know it's a lot longer than the relationships of my peers. I don't really pride myself in that anymore, though - I feel as if he's right for me. I don't know if you're still with him or not, but if you've gone your separate ways you must have had a good reason. If he's given into his thoughts and committed suicide, I hope it's haunted you. I don't know what to do to help him, but if he ever does it I will never forgive myself for not doing something more. Sasha's still alive. She's getting old, though, so I expect she's gone by the time you've read this. She was a good dog, a little jumpy but a really good dog. If the goldfish are alive they must be massive. EDNOS is a problem, as I assumed you guessed by my earlier mentioning of my stats. I was going to only passively mention it through my CW but it seems like I should talk about it. I can't stand myself. I spend my days inside because every time I go in public it's like I'm being watched, judged by everyone that goes past me. I'm only comfortable going out at night - when there are little cars and no pedestrians. I don't feel safe, I get anxious and nervous and I stare down every car that drives by, but it's so much better than being out during the day. I don't know when, or if, this will get better. It probably will, with time, and I feel as if it will get plenty better with weight loss as well. I can probably make it through the summer with the trench, but only because it's baggy and I can wear practically nothing under it and still be invisible. Sucks I don't have the confidence to wear something lighter, even a sweater. I don't know what to expect of myself. I know I won't recover, I can't see that happening by 21 anymore than I can see it happening by this time next week. I hope you've either gotten skinny and the disorder got better (although we both know the skinnier the sicker), or you've just gotten skinny. I'm thinking I'm going to live my life semi-self-employed, working as an author. I'm terrible at communicating my own emotions, but I can create characters that will make you sob or laugh or sweat in anger. It's my "special talent". I hope you've finished, or are at least close to finishing the trilogy. I don't have a lot of the plot mapped, but half of the characters' backgrounds are developed and I've been taking notes and somewhat studying off-and-on for months. I'm sure it'll turn out well. I hope you've worked on your vocabulary, grammar, punctuation, just overall writing. I'm great for my age group, I'm surpassing adults, but let's not forget we're talking about fifteen year olds and teachers from the Fraser Valley. No prizes should be awarded just yet. I haven't cut in a year. The scars are still there, of course, thick and strange to the touch, but I don't care for covering them up. I'll catch my arm slip out of my sleeve every now and again and I'll pull it back in, but I'm not constantly checking to be sure they're hidden. I don't really care anymore. There aren't any new ones and I shouldn't be scared of the ignorant judgments of degenerate, dumb fuck 14 year olds (if only I had that mindset about my weight). I doubt you ever got into modeling. Our face is interesting enough for it, you'd better be damn skinny, but I don't think I'd ever have the confidence to step in front of a camera and be photographed, or to walk strongly down a runway. We're a weak creature and there's no point denying it. You'd better have a fucking job. Hoping things are better for you (but knowing that since you've most likely just moved out they aren't), 15 Year Old You.

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