A letter from November 30th, 2014

Dear FutureMe, I'm sitting here listening to The National and thinking of my future me. I will be skinny and wear amazing clothes that show off my gorgeous ballerina figure, and best of all, Francis is going to love me back. My braces will be off and the two of us will be the most beautiful couple ever. Even though I'll be taken, I'll have everyone's attention, I'll be the center of it all. I'll be seen for who I am, whoever the hell that is, because honestly I still can't tell. I'm going to be really smart despite the fact that I couldn't bring myself to do any of my high school work for the love of writing songs and music, and honestly, wasting my time on shit that didn't matter. I'm going to be that girl. Maybe I'm being dramatic because I just watched a John Hughes film and he always seems to make all teenagers feel like their lives are shit and sub par, but I just don't want future me to be present me. I'm going against everything I always tell myself about being a strong, independent, and beautiful woman without waiting for others to make things happen, and mostly I'm going against my belief in living in the moment and loving and cherishing every second of life. But this is a moment of doubt because, just being is really fucking hard sometimes. Growing up is really fucking hard, and I tell myself I'm already grown, but I know that that's bullshit. So basically, Dear Futureme, I hope you've atleast figured out who you are. I'm is hoping that maybe you've become something beautiful and unique and ethereal; the type of person that Daisy Buchanan was when she first met Gatsby. I'm hoping that I'm worthy to be the heroin of a romance novel or the star of film. I know that this letter will reach me in a few years and still be relevant. I know that I'll be able to keep on sending this to the future and these hopes sorrows expressed will never become obsolete. But here's to hope, that this last paragraph will be proved wrong and that one day puberty (which has really already happened) will transform me into what my chub and braces, and awkwardness, and hopeless crushes has prevented me from becoming. Here's to the hope that I will be the virgin Daisy Buchanan, or Olivia Hussey as Juliette in Zeffirelli's 'Romeo and Juliette.' I love you, and I know it's cliche, but stay strong future/present me. Everything is going to be okay, although it totally doesn't feel like it now and it probably won't feel like it when this gets to you, everything will be okay, baby.