Dear future me,
I don’t know if you will ever read this or even be alive to read this, but I’m going to write it anyways because I have hope that maybe we’ll make it through. If you read this, I don’t want you to read it while crying after another sleepless night, wishing that you could finally disappear. We aren’t going to do that again. We aren’t going to make the same mistakes again
The truth is that I’m absolutely terrified of the future. I’m scared that maybe you never made it out of this place. Maybe you never got better and let the sickness consume you. Maybe you made it out but only into a shell of all that you once were. But if there is one thing I’ve learned this year, it is that maybes are useless. Instead of focusing on the possibilities of everything that could happen, I’m going to tell you everything that I hope will happen for you, because you deserve it.
I hope you found the strength to finally move out and move away from Him. I hope that before you did, you said everything that we planned all those years ago. That you learned how to stop being silent and letting him walk all over you. I hope that you’re stronger than I am now. I hope that you cut yourself free from all the toxic people who called themselves your friends, who did nothing but tear you down.
Most of all, I hope that you’re happy. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I just hope that you’re happy. That you’ve learned how to ask for help and can walk around without having to constantly increase the volume of your music to drown out the screaming. I hope that your smiles are finally genuine and that you can laugh without breaking. I hope the nightmares have stopped and that you have stopped putting your self-worth in what other people think of you. I hope that you’re better or at least working towards getting better.
Finally, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. Because one day, I’m going to be a past that you wish you could erase. I’m sorry that I’m not trying hard enough to fix my relationship with our mother and that I’m too much of a coward to ask for help. I’m asking you to forgive me. Forgive us.
To be completely honest, I don’t know if everything will get better, and right now I don’t think that it ever will. But you can do it. I’m counting on you.
From,
Your fifteen-year-old self
Dhriti Iyer is a 15-year-old sophomore in high school. She loves reading and writing and drinking her weight in coffee and tea. She also enjoys online shopping, singing, and dancing (badly).
This letter partially inspired by "I Want to See You Smile."