A letter from February 24th, 2016

Dear FutureMe, You're 35. What. The. ****. Congratulations, but seriously, woah! It's like 15-year-old you trying to envision 25-year-old you. You wanted the corporate thing, tried it, and are getting your moody/reflective quarter out of the way before the next BIG thing. But ten additional years on top of that? What would the 15 year old fresh out of boarding school think would come? A love that heals. A career that's exhausting in the most gratifying way. Idealism, that comes to fruition if only because you dared to strive, dared to try for what you decided you wanted. Most recently: a job in SF? a place to live in SF? The odds were NOT in your favor, but you did it, lost it, and now it turns over once more. You're learning to live with the impermanence of other people's emotions and learning that you have a gift of integrity in standing in love, and I urge you to stand in love with yourself today. Look at what you've accomplished with that clarity you've found. You started writing tonight (or rather this morning, it is 1:06am, but no work tomorrow, so who the **** cares?). The stories you wanted to burn from your memory until all you could remember were cluttered ashes, with blood dried and a scar reminding you that you're healed. Don't forget your strength. I love you.