I know by the time you read this, I won’t be here anymore. You’ll be young still, wiser and aged by many years. I hope you can reflect on it all. Time won’t be how God once made it. You’ll live long enough to feel it way down in you and carry it within like a furnace out of Hell. You’ll doubt very much the ways of this world.

It ain’t fair, maybe you appreciate this by now. You’ll spend days on end working with your hands--sweating and your hands will bleed and burst with calices and blisters and your back will stay hurting--and you’ll spend nights in bars and nights in jail and nights on the road, on your own with great lights like the eyes of paradise peering down the dark highway toward the unknown, and nights in the arms of a woman you’ll grow to love who’ll grow to hate you, and many nights under perfume sheets with women you don’t love at all.

When your grandfather dies, your grandmother will ask you for a cigarette and you’ll hand her one and y’all will smoke for a few minutes and not speak a word and her make-up will become ruined from her painted tears and then just before she steps on the cigarette she’ll say that she looks like a whore and feels way worse. That’s right, the only decent man in this world you know will die too, just like every other son of a bitch.

You’ll bury your best friend. There’s one night in Redneck, Georgia where y’all tripped mushrooms with T.B. and Skunk and Ridge and his girlfriend and two of her friends and laughed like hyenas at God knows what for five hours without cease, and at dawn when the fog crossed the moon your buddy looked out at the river and then looked at you ghostly, in the eyes, and said he wants to do something great in this world and won’t settle for anything less. Four years later he’ll die of a heroin overdose at 23 and you’ll put him into the earth.

You’ll see your friends get great salary jobs, and graduate from medical school and law school and you’ll still be living week-to-week, on a good week, and you’ll chase your dreams and fail for so long you’ll appreciate very much the books of Moses. You don’t rightly know where you’re headed and it scares you but it’s alright my son. Just say shit, sometimes and calm ’er down. You’re wise by now, and young too, still, and wherever you’re headed you’ll get there. You know this and know it well.

When your spirit rises, and a breeze breaks through your spine, know it is my breath levitating and pouring blood into your heart, lighting through your eyes and burning like roman candles of the sun. Be well my son. I’m waiting for you yet. Keep on down the way.

--Your father

stop wishing

to be older

because i can tell you

that once you hit your teen years

you wish to be

young again.

you go through hell

and maybe you even

enjoy it a little bit.

Dear Younger Me,

stay right where you are,

live in the present

because future holds

family rivalries,

questions about yourself

and those around you.

your grandfather who used to toss quarters on the floor

and say that he had holes in his pockets

is homophobic

and won't accept you for who you are,

so while he dies of COVID a few states away,

you don't know what to feel.

you see the ugly side of your family

and the ugly side of kids

and the ugly side of

yourself.

when you get older,

everything seems ugly,

and you wish you could go back to

when you were younger

and everything seemed

beautiful.

Dear Younger Me,

stay away from

the golden boy

because his gold

is pyrite

and even though he glitters

he is worthless.

Dear Younger Me,

quit wishing to be older

and enjoy your youth

before it all gets

taken away from you.

Dear Younger Me,

rely on reality,

no matter how bad it seems,

because fantasy will only tear you to shreds

as you question who you are.

Dear Younger Me,

stay away from toxic friends,

they taint you forever,

and years later, you haven't shaken

them.

Dear Younger Me,

don't worry so much about your grades,

they go to shit anyway.

Dear Younger Me,

keep writing,

because it's the only thing that keeps you living.

Dear Younger Me,

don't run away from home,

you don't know how good you've got it.

Eventually, you'll learn that

your family is beautiful and kind

and you'll learn how lucky you are.

Dear Younger Me,

just remember

that it's okay to forget

and that it's okay to remember.

To my past self,

I can't change my past.

It's done.

If I could, I would,

but sometimes,

I don't think it will matter

if you get this letter or not,

because in our weakness,

when we are stuck in the past,

we forget the future.

Dear Younger Me,

keep writing.

Keep writing.

Keep on writing and writing

because if you stop,

you'll lose the last

gift

you have left.

Dear Younger Me,

stop trying to get older

because when you get older,

you start to know things

that you'd rather stay hidden.

And speaking of hiding places,

don't bother hiding

those scraps of metal you find,

and don't bother wearing long sleeves,

because they'll find it anyway

so you might as well

own it.

You might not know what I mean by that yet,

but you will,

because you can't change the past,

even with a warning

from the future.

Yesterday afternoon, I was organizing the attic when I came upon a box of my old journals. I started keeping one when I was twelve and continued until a year into my marriage. (My husband thought he was supposed to have access to every nook and cranny of my mind. I disagreed. Rather than argue, I stopped keeping a journal. I wish I hadn’t. But that’s another story.)

Anyway, I was excited when I realized the treasure trove of adolescent angst I’d found and sat down to read a bit. When I opened the earliest notebook, a piece of onionskin paper slipped out. It was yellowing and written in a handwriting I recognized as my own. Not my childhood perfect penmanship taught by Sister Mercedes and Sister Mary Ellen handwriting. No. The adult version, personalized over decades. I felt a chill. It had no date. I read: Dear Younger Me and skipping to the end, I noted it was signed, Your future self.

And then, I remembered.

And it was a doozy of a brain-twisting memory, because I remembered both sides of the...dream. The writing of the note that I was yet to experience…and the receiving of the letter by my terrified, eleven year old self.

I have to laugh as I write this. I mean, I say memory, but clearly, it was a dream that felt real and left traces in my mind so that one day I might…remember…Right?

Except that, I was holding evidence in my hands that what I remembered was not the product of an overactive imagination. I can recall clearly now that moment in my mother’s house, in my small room, sitting upon my bed, blanket up to my chin, staring into the darkness at this, this woman, who was me, or, one day, would be.

She told me not to be afraid, that she had something for me, to help me along the journey of my life. I tried to scream for my mother. Again, she told me to be calm, that she would never hurt me and that I should remember that myself. Then she asked to read me a letter she’d written me. “Like you, I am still better at writing my thoughts than speaking off the cuff.” And this is what she read to me. What I read on that yellowing piece of impossible history in the attic.

Dear Younger Me,

Say ”yes” the first time he asks you to marry him. (I need not tell you who. There is only one who will ever ask.) You may think that you are being the more mature, the more adult – you will be so very young when he asks – but really, you are just untrusting of his feelings and of your gut instinct that he is the one. Trust him and yourself: Say yes. It may not change the time table very much, I mean, ultimately, you do say yes and as I write, you have been married almost thirty years. But that initial lack of trust may have colored the early years unnecessarily.

That Christmas you try to decide who to visit, visit Daddy. Save Aunt Deenie for another day. You will spend your life time regretting it if you do not.

Keep writing. Even when you stop keeping a journal because of prying eyes, keep writing. It will save you more than once.

Keep doing all the things you love even when you are exhausted by all your responsibilities. You will find the moments of joy you permit yourself will allow you to keep bringing joy to others.

And at that country club? Your ONLY friend is the cantankerous club president. Remember that. It will save you serious disillusionment. Although learning from bad experiences can be a good thing, this is NOT one of those times.

In general, the path you take is a good one. The five and ten year plans you write serve you well. You are not very adventurous, but enough to keep your life interesting. Keep following your instincts…and your heart.

That smile you cultivate in adolescence to overcome your shyness? Keep sharing it. It is good for you and for the world around you.

It is not an easy life. It is not an endlessly happy life. You will endure many hardships. But you do endure. And you have an abundance of joys to see you through.

It is a wonderful life. Believe it. Believe me.

I do love you though you may doubt it from time to time,

Your future self

As I read the last words, the paper disintegrated in my hand…from age, I suppose. And so, I ran to my desk to write them down, so I would not forget…again. I mean, given the evidence, it’s apparent that one day, time travel will really be a thing… Right?

Right?

I know that you won’t listen to me, but I will, however, give you some advice. I am your future self, as unrealistic as that could sound, and I was given the chance to talk to you, completely unaware how that was made possible, but still using the miraculous opportunity, without however feeding the illusion that I could change you or coax you to do something against your will or code of life. So I will try to go easy on you, I do not want to stir your reluctance, you hate to be given advice in the same way that I still do and we cannot do anything about it, we are temperamental, wilful, boisterous at times, people do not really like us, even if they may admire us, so you have to learn how to live mostly alone and cope with what you represent and the reality, which cannot be changed.

What else should I suggest? Nothing and simultaneously a bunch of things, which you will ignore and I cannot blame you. But what I have learned for sure is that you can lead a much more serene existence if you let your tumultuous emotions free. At first, it might feel difficult, unreasonable, because you have to let your shields down, and it is in a certain way, but, as you commit yourself to it through discipline and self-observation, you will acquire inner peace and will be tremendously receptive to the beauties around. And women will find you less abrasive and will appreciate your charm.

Goodbye. And do not take yourself too seriously! Believe me, or otherwise, you’ll have to understand it the hard way, which is a painstaking one. So would you like to pay attention to me? Just once? No? Ok, nevermind.

You’re a pretty energetic child. You should really know by now that Mum is aware you’re lying when you tell her you’ve brushed your teeth while your little green toothbrush sits nice and dry in the bathroom ... one day you’ll realise that lies only cause confusion and it’s not worth fibbing to your own mother. And green will still be your favourite colour.

You like to write stories in that little notepad with the pink cover, don’t you? That’s right; you’ll still have it in the years to come. It’s more precious than you know. You’ll write better stories one day, and your spelling will improve. It takes time. Who knows? You’re probably on your way to becoming a real author, kiddo (I’m still not sure about that one).

Eventually you’ll realise that the world is bigger than you, that Michael Jackson wasn’t always the cute little boy you hear in your treasured Jackson 5 album, and that, to your disappointment, you can’t marry your brother. Sure, he’s the best boy in the world, but it’s just not how it works. And I know this will be a shock to you ... but he’s going to be very close to death one day. You’re going to stand in that hospital ward waving to him while a pane of glass separates you. You’re going to sit on the edge of his bed watching his chest rise and fall mechanically as he breathes with the support of a machine, his eyes closed; alive and yet not quite living. And you’re going to see him come home. Everything will be alright again.

But.... Well, there’s a bigger shock coming for you. This is one you don’t think about too much. He’s going to grow up, go to university, and come home with a girl on his mind.

Of course, he still loves you. It’s just that he loves her too.

It won’t be as bad as you think.

You’re going to become a musician, could you have guessed? I know you hate those piano lessons. But you’ll find solace in those black and white keys someday, and you’ll have a guitar with a big black case just like you’ve always dreamed of. You’ll also realise that the guitar is more important than the case.

Now, there’s one more thing left to tell you. You will have friends, and you will lose them. Somehow the memories that mean everything to you never meant a thing to them. They will forget, and you will hold on. But God is your friend, your ally, and though you will fall, He will always have your hand in His.

(Did I mention that there’s going to be a worldwide pandemic and you’re nearly going to run out of ... actually, never mind. You’ll find out.)

Sincerely you,

From the future.

You will lose everything.

Everything you own...

Everyone you had...

It will all be gone.

And for the first time in forever,

You will be completely:

Alone.

Yet- you find a light through writing.

And you meet some amazing people,

Who help you survive.

People who understand.

People who care, and listen.

Many talented, and incredible writers motivate you,

To keep fighting.

Thank you

Dear little me,

Don’t be glad to hear from me. I really don’t have anything to say to you. I could tell you what’s to come. Hype you up or let you down gently but I’m afraid whatever story I might tell will be fiction. Because I honestly do not know how the hell I got here.

Wait, maybe there are two advices I could give you. One, please start watching TV. Maybe that way your friends won’t be able to tag you ‘childhoodless’ just because you haven’t watched more than two disney movies and don’t know that ‘Sam and Cat’ was a show with Ariana Grande in it. Two, please find a place so deep in your heart to keep some of your innocence such that even you might get lost trying to find it. At least that way you will know it still exists.

For your life will soon get as complicated as anyone’s life can get. You are going to worry and wish a lot. Innocence will be the least of your problems so will homework.

Anyone who says they care might not but it’s going to be fine. I’m kidding, it’s not going to be fine. But there are good parts too. Just keep growing and you might see for yourself.

Love,

A defaced you.

PS: I’m still waiting for the letter from a future me. I hope she likes me enough to warn me of what’s to come, like I like you enough to. And I hope she has at least some of what she wished for.

PPS: This letter is for you and only you. DO NOT SHOW ANYONE (yes, including mum brainy. Don’t be such a baby.)

dear me,

when you grow older there will be a time when you're surrounded by thin, beautiful girls, you'll see them all over magazines, in school, and on social media,

and they're smiling, they're laughing, their life is "perfect", they're "perfect",

and you'll aspire to be like them, and risk it all for this "perfection",

now you may not believe me when i say this,

you're happy right now, carefree if even, but society gets to everybody after awhile,

but you can choose to not listen,

if you don't listen you save yourself from losing the rest of your childhood to anorexia,

a terrible illness that corrupts your life,

making your heart, and mind ache constantly,

and your stomache rumbles often,

what if i told you that eating your favourite foods in the whole entire world like pizza or chocolate chip cookies was impossible?

that all of your morals were abandoned from the minute you let the monster inside your head,

and you hate every minute of it,

and i hate seeing myself this way too,

i hate being afraid of foods i love, i hate lying to those i love, i hate that my body physically cannot do the things i love, i hate that i hate myself,

and this isn't you, and you don't have to let this happen,

society is tough, and expects too much of us,

but if you don't listen to society, and find your independence you'll turn out so much better than just conforming,

you are beautiful as you are,

with your bright blue eyes, golden curls, and warm smile,

but that's only the surface layer, looks aren't everything, remember this for later,

you possess the best gift of all, your heart of gold,

i admire your genuine kindness, especially to yourself,

and in your young age you have better morals than i do now,

and i wish i could be you, i wish i could go back,

because i would be in a completely different situation without this disorder,

you have the chance to make a better life for yourself without this,

and i can see you going far,

if you don't let this happen, you'll definetely get into a great university, you'll probably even graduate highschool early, and will be one step closer to doing what you think your purpose is, helping others,

you'll be able to have and maintain good, healthy relationships with those that you love, something i can only envy the potential of having,

and you can accept your body as a home, not a warzone

so do what you like, be carefree, and don't try to grow up as fast as i did,

staying kind and true to yourself will save you

It takes time.

Dear Me,

It takes time.

My sweet,

My love.

It may take a moment.

A gathering of seconds.

An ounce of minutes.

A glimpse of hours.

A certain amount,

A certain weight,

A little trickle of that constant stream

That you love,

Oh,

So dearly.

Stay inside.

Stay outside.

Black,

Or,

Gray.

The difference between the two,

Depends on the view.

How’s that view?

Did you stay inside?

Or did you go out?

Have you decided

To air,

That, tired ’ol soul out?

I love you.

You’re amazing.

You won’t lose.

I won’t ever let you.

Take it in.

Take in the beauty of you.

The beauty of us.

I may be your subconscious,

But I’d like to think of us as dear friends.

You’re my inescapable friend.

Dear self,

You are going to do many great things and possibly more embarrassing things. Unfortunately, like many others, the things you choose not to do will lead to the greatest regret.

I could tell you how to avoid looking foolish, narcissistic or arrogant in various instances, but I don't have much time, so I'll leave you with one bit of advice.

Spend more time with the people you value, before they are gone. You will not get that time back. Other career opportunities will arise, days of leisure time to bask in the sun and get a new high score will come again, but they will not. Specifically your late future father-in-law and your grandmother. I can confirm you will get his blessing to take your future wife's hand in marriage, but for choices somewhat your own, you never got to know him or spend the time with him you should have before that bulbous beast in his head took his mental function and his life shortly after. Now I must live my life day in and out wondering how much closer we could have been before he was prematurely taken from his daughters, his family, and myself.

Same goes for your grandmother. No, she isn't gone yet, but a pandemic has come up in recent times making seeing her...complicated. She only lives an hour away and after losing your grandfather to alzheimers', she could use someone other than your dimwitted uncle or your cynical mother to spend time with. If you don't head this warning, you'll have gone a year without seeing her in person, wondering if she is as well as she claims to be on the phone, when she can actually hear the ringtone going off.

Other than that, don't fall out of your love for cartooning, music and writing. It will save you from episodes of depression and anxiety as you sit in front of the T.V. hoping to muster the emotional energy tomorrow to get back into your passions. Also, stop itching your nose so much as a tick...That's all I have time for now. Don't just think about the things I've told you, act on them.