A letter from December 28th, 2014

Dear FutureMe, I know a lot of things have probably gotten a lot worse. You're not a depressed teenager anymore-you're a depressed adult. At this point, you should have graduated from college as I gave you some time to get a masters as well. You should be fairly well adjusted in your career. I don't really know what your career is yet, though I'm guessing either an intelligence analyst or a mathematician (though we both know you're a lawyer, right.) You don't sit at your computer watching anime, listening to music, or reading webcomics. You don't cry silently for hours, desperate for someone to comfort you, but when they do, push them away. I'm sure you have had at least one boyfriend so far... at least I hope. But if we die forever alone, while it would be miserable, it wouldn't be so unexpected. Who would want us anyway. You probably don't fangirl a whole lot anymore. In fact, you've probably forgotten how. You sit at a desk all day, bored as hell, yet there's nothing you can do about it. You've probably read this letter a gajillion times because I know I'll never stop being impatient. You probably sat up waiting for this letter, for when it finally arrived in your 11 year old inbox so you could delete it. And you'll cry. I know because that's something I would do. You won't cry because you used to be so naive, but because you're still so naive. Because I know your life is not getting any better and so do you. And you might show a friend this letter. At least you might have if I didn't say that you would. Now you'll keep it a secret, never telling anyone for the rest of your life. Because we keep everything a secret. You'll go to work tomorrow or the next day, or whenever and wish you could be me again-choose not to throw it away and stay depressed forever. I'll go on with my life every day for the next 11 years wishing I could bee you, successful and all grown up. And we both know what life we want. I don't want to be you and you don't want to be me. We ant to be someone else entirely. We want to be a criminal, a rogue, a fugitive, living a life of pain and fear, but a life that is always changing. And now I'm too young. I have no money, nowhere to go, no way to get away with it. And I'm sure you'll be to young, too poor and have no place to go. Because we always will be. Just remember: Don't settle down. Don't get married, don't have kids, don't move into a suburban neighborhood like mine, living like I do. I know everything ahead is terrifying to think about-for me and for you. But know that becoming me again will only give you the problems you have and the problems I have. So the second you read this email, I want you to do this: Do whatever the worst thing you could possibly do is. I know you know that I'm thinking hacking, but I don't know what the thing will be in the future, so do whatever the equivalent is. Before you get caught, run away to a place with no extradition. Because letting them catch you just makes your life even worse. Meet someone. Someone you can love. Someone that can love you back. Because I know that's what we want more than anything else we've never had. And I know you're life is horrible. It has been since you were born and it will be until the day you die. I know you're not going to follow my instructions because I wouldn't follow my instructions. And that's why I gave them to you. I'm secretly hoping that you will be a different person than I am now. You'll be a doer, all bite, no bark. But we both know that's not going to happen. So you'll cry about it for a little bit then go on with your life, doing exactly what I told you not to do. But I knew you would. And that's why I'm sad. So I guess that's why I sent this letter to you. Because we like making other people upset when we are. Just know that I'll never be happy with you until you become what I want to be. What you want to be. And we'll never be happy.