To be opened again on October 26, 2016
Dear me of the future,
The date today is October 26, 2015 and in about one year, I’ll be opening this and reading this. Maybe not at the exact date, but I’m about to put it on my google calendar, so hopefully I’ll remember.
Today is October 26, 2015. And I wanted to write a letter to my future self for a few reasons. Number 1 being that I want to see how I change, what I become, what I used to worry about, who I used to love, and if any of these are continuous in a year. A year is quite a long time. It’s already been a year since I was just beginning junior year, and I’ve come this far, already a senior, remembering how I was telling myself that in a year I would soon be here in the place. And now here it is, and I’m rambling because I’m anxious about where I’ll be in another year.
Today is October 26, 2015. And I am 17 years old, and I’m stubborn as hell. I’m working hard to get into college and my list is already updated. I have a clear idea of where I want to be in the next year, and that’s basically being anywhere but here. I’m excited to go to school, and get away, be independent. I’m ready to take on the world at such a young, stubborn age even though I have yet to understand what that means.
Today is October 26, 2015. And I am beyond confused about what love is. I have two parents living separate lives in two very, different worlds. But, they are both loving, and they are both happy, so I am happy. I took a risk a few months ago, and told someone I really cared for how I really felt about them. And they told me they didn’t feel the same way. But, I still really like them… I’m currently being persuaded into liking someone else, but I’m realizing each day that it’s not gonna happen and I’m scared and confused, and I just want to be left alone to figure this part of me out.
Today is October 26, 2015. And I’m admitting that I can’t handle a lot of things. I used to think that after middle school, I’d be able to go through anything, which is not even half true. I cry with my back up against doors still. I keep my head between my hands, trying to stop the tears from flowing out. I’ll curl up into a ball, feeling everything and nothing at once, trying to figure out if I’m actually feeling or if the pain my chest is a heart attack.
Today is October 26, 2015. And I’ve been a couple of years clean I think. I’ve stopped counting, but I haven’t thought of picking up a blade in a very, very long time. My scars are still here, stained on my skin. I want tattoos, and I wish I could get some to cover it up. But, I want one that symbolizes my recovery.
Today is October 26, 2015. And I’m still young, and I’m still figuring it out. And I can do this. I’ve made it this far. and I want to live, I want to live, I want to live.
The day you read this, it will be October 26, 2016. And if you get there, and you read this. I want to congratulate you, you made it. You did it. You’re here, living, breathing, surviving.