A Letter to My Future Self | Teen Ink

A Letter to My Future Self

January 4, 2008
By Anonymous

A Letter to My Future Self

Dear You,

I hope you are “you”. I am “me” now, and “you” and “me” are two completely different people. At least I hope. Now I'm trapped. Trapped in this home, this school, this place. Tossed into a pit of snakes, there's barely any hands to reach in and save me anymore. I'm reaching high, gripping tight, but saving me is my job and I'm just delaying the fall. And how they'd kill so see me fall- their venom takes a longer toll after every bite, my vision blurs becoming most impossible to recognize what's real, what really matters- they pride themselves on prey, they aim to kill. But you have life. You have goals you set to reach to take you higher. You have morals that keep you above them. You stand taller than they will ever be able to touch. I envy you for that. That you look down on them with pity, not eye to eye with hate. That you have more than likely forgotten their faces, their names, instead of focusing your daily being on where they are, what they're saying.

I'm truly sick, barely able to leave my bed in the morning sick, of where I am. And it's not all physical, I'm not happy and that makes me sick. I deserve to, above everyone else, keep myself happy and that's the most sickening part, I've failed myself. I've put me where I am no, there's no one else to blame but me. That's the worst aching you could ever feel. But I hope you don't feel not even an ounce of that aching pain. I hope the worst sickness you feel can be treated with a “good-night's sleep” and a “take two of these and call me in the morning.” And above all, I hope you're happy. Yes, your normal ups and downs occur, but overall you are happy. I hope that every single time you smile, you mean it. And your happiness glows brilliant, radiates, and lifts the sulking heads of people just like me.

By now, I know you've gotten out of here, very smart. I hope you've found yourself in a place where you truly enjoy looking out your window and saying “this is my home.” I hope you are succeeding. Making your way to making it big, being known, and I hope you're stronger than me. It takes strength and ambition to be someone, to not get walked all over, I hope you have that. I hope you're still sincerely kind, that you do things for people that you don't really have to, when you know most will never repay you, you do it anyways- that satisfaction will never turn sour or cold. Remember that. I hope the dreams I sent high into the clouds are gracefully falling back into “realities”, not plunging dead into “never come trues.” I hope you've forgiven Dad, not necessarily to his face but in your heart. I hope you understand why Mom did the things she did, said the words she said, and brought you to where you were, because it's still so unclear to me. I hope you and Dave have grown even closer than he is with me now. I hope you're still close with the people in my heart. I hope you never stop embracing your diversity. I hope you've given yourself reason to love everything about you and that you realize to hate is to waste precious energy and moments of your life.

I hope you don't look back at me with disappointment. I hope you never find disappointment in yourself. But that's all I can do is hope, hope that you'll grow from me, learn from me. And if you ever wish you just weren't you, press on with fortitude. And don't you ever change who you are, what you wish to be. Keep your chin up, I bet they'd still kill to see you fall. Make me proud.

Yours truly,

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