The Isolation Journals - Day 7

Today's Prompt:  Write a letter to your younger self. Thank them, praise them, scold them, comfort them—engage in whatever way you feel led with one or many versions of your younger self. Whatever comes to mind. 

Now, let’s shift to exploring your older self. What would you want to say? To ask? To request? Tell your older self what you are doing now in service of them. Tell them what the ideal situation might look like when you finally meet—where might you be living, what type of work might you be doing, who you might be spending time and space with. 

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Dispatches to my Past and Future Selves:

Dear 6th Grade Me,

You can hold onto your poet phase a little longer.  Dressing exclusively in black turtlenecks is fine, and screw anyone who asks if you're a mime.  Also, when you sign up for middle school electives, don't waste your time with choir.  We both know that's an exercise in masochism.  Sign up for band; trombone would be perfect.

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Dear 9th-12th Grade Me, 

Pop Tarts or a soft pretzel are neither nutritionally balanced nor sufficiently caloric for your daily lunches.  Do better.

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Dear 19-Year-Old Me, 

I say this with love but foreknowledge of the consequences.  DO get a tattoo - I'm not a regular Future You, I'm a cool Future You.  Just please, for the love of god, start small.  And don't choose a random shop on the Wildwood boardwalk.  Do some research.  If you make that mistake, and you will, please just promise me you won't wait 12 years to fix it.  You're worth it.

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Dear Me Ages ~23-Now,

Call your friends more often.  Make an effort.  You're not very good at this.

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Dear Me in March 2013,

Whatever you do, DO NOT let Andy go to PetSmart for any reason.  Just trust me on this.  It's better if you don't know how many years of torment the wrong dog can bring to your life.

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Dear 28-Year-Old Me, 

I know you pride yourself on being invulnerable and not the litigious type, but girl, file that sexual harassment lawsuit.  

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Dear Future Me of 2045,

Tell me everything, but no spoilers.  For starters, does our hair ever go gray in elegant streaks?  Do we ever get a book published?  

By the way, how was that extra episode of Tiger King?  Please say we aren't still in quarantine.  How did that end?  Does everyone live in their own plastic bubble?

Do we ever get to live in Spain or South America?  On a scale of The Giver - The Road, how dystopian was the world in the 2020s?  Did we make a hard left into universal healthcare, universal basic income, and a more humane pace of life, or will we burn this letter for warmth after reading it?

I hope the yoga and sunscreen are still serving you well, though I can't vouch for the habits of 40- or 50-Year-Old Me.  She could really go off the rails and turn us into a withered husk, but just know I'm doing the best I can for us here and now.