A Letter to My Past and Future Self

Dear past and future me,

When you were 19 , you wrote me a letter for when I turned 21, and well, I know it's gone quickly but here we are. 21 and thriv... getting by.

You asked, well, I asked... wait, what? This is confusing.

In the letter, you asked me how I am and what I'm doing with myself. It's almost as if you somehow thought life was going to redesign itself over the next coming years but not a lot has really changed.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not living the exact life you had in 2017 and I suppose technically I'm more mature (only ask a certain few people for evidence) but all in all, life is still working itself out. Does it ever really stop? Just working itself out? Or do we just keep going, waiting for the day some miraculous event happens and life as we know it is never the same? To be quite honest with you, we're just going to keep taking it one step at a time and see how that works out for us... me, you... oh, what?!

You also mentioned the 5-year rule... Well... I mean, I had an out. A perfect chance to leave and go somewhere new aaaannnndddddddddd I didn't take it. That's completely fine, and it's 100% the right decision to have made but to be quite honest with you, because I'm loyal babe you know me, I don't think I'm ever not going to feel like the one in the family that never fully developed and this year kinda made it worse. Oh well, fill the void with coffee.

Oh yeah, did I mention I'm now addicted to caffeine? One latte every few days became 2, then 3.. and so on. I'm sorry, I know it's not the best thing to be drowning in every single day but it just tastes so good!

Coffee, coffee, coffee

Oh, and for the record, you're not moving to Brighton. Not yet anyway, 19 year old me was very optimistic. 

You asked if I was driving yet. No update on that front but maybe 22 year old me can give you the answer you want? Txt back xx. As far as friends go, you know what, we're not doing too bad. You've got Katie, and Casey and Lacey and Jess. They're pretty much the pack. Hey, 22 year old me, don't forget to text them, and has Katie had a baby yet? I bet he/she hates you because you're the aunt that won't stop saying 'what are you crying about?! You have no problems!'

Because you asked, Emilia and Eduardo are fine. Alessia and new baby are here now too!! Crazy. Yes, I still watch SACCONEJOLY's every single day. It's like having a whole other day to get through when you get home from your own.

Do you really want to know about my love life? I mean, we'll keep it short because really there isn't much too it. I don't have one. Carrying on...

I'm ok. That's only half true but it's ok. 'It's ok' is really just a blanket term for 'not much is good but we're getting there'. There is no need to worry. I'm sure eventually things will work out and I'll be singing and dancing out life as a musical one day. Maybe not, but I will learn to be happy. Despite feeling not so great, I've had some really good moments this year (so far, it's only August). Moving into a new home surrounded by people I don't know was a big step but I did it. Yeah, yeah, I'm still slightly terrified to leave my room but it's only been two weeks, give it time. Reenacting the scene from 'Mamma Mia' where they dance to Super Trouper with Jess. Now that is something that is scarred in my brain. Beach days and nights out are just some of the things I've done this year that made so many happy memories. I must remember that when I feel shit about myself, to think of these things or the things that are yet to come because moments like this are what we live for. You got this.

So to 22-year-old me. Next year. 2019. Here is what I would like to know.
Do you have a plan? Is 90's fashion still the trend? What's your opinion on the colour red? Are Jack and Dani from Love Island season 4 still together?

Let me know and more,
your slightly younger, 21-year-old self.


Today is Thursday, August 9th and the year is 2018. You?

It's confusing writing in a different tense. Ignore however many mistakes there are in this. 

Dear me, 2017