A love letter from March 11th, 2016

Despite the title, this is not to my future self, but more of a message for my future self to deliver. If the person who deserves this letter isn't with you yet, that's okay. That's perfectly alright. Copy it, and send it to be delivered again. I tried this once before, when I was twelve. I might have told you before. My grandma discovered it and I shredded it to pieces, if I remember correctly. In a way, I regret it, but I know I would have been embarrassed by most of it anyway. Still, I know I like to see the effort behind a story, and here is an opening to some of my earlier effort before you stepped into the pages. Maybe it's self-absorbed to think you'll care to read it, but if I know myself in a similar way I do now, then I trust I would jump at all the chances to know all the more about you. I'm trying to think of what I could tell you that my older (and hopefully more mature) self wouldn't. And that's the thing that excites me most. It's great to trust there will be someone who I can share all the different facets of my life with-- the good and the bad. I keep wondering who you are. What you'll be like. Recently, a lot of my time has been dedicated to maintaining that I'm better off alone. I've also been trying to rub away all my childish naivety that I'm afraid will tarnish my understanding of what real love should be like. It's hard, yet it's not too hard. Because if I've chosen to love you, then I believe there's a certain fantasy you'll indulge me. Reading letters like these are an indulgence. It feeds on the idea that we've been connected even in our time not knowing each other. Like soul mates. The faith I've had in the fact that I'll meet you sometime is so strong it's almost religion, and it's funny when you consider the irony. When you read this, try to remind me. What did you do during months in early 2016? What were you doing in the time I was successfully making new friends but struggled with energy? I won't ask the impossible. It's hard to expect I'll ever know what you're doing during the time I write this. If you're a sane person on the continental US, you're probably asleep anyway. As a side note: you could easily win me over ten times over with piano music, you know. (I was listening to In The Rain while starting this.) Anyway, I wish feelings really could transcend time and space. I'm an idealistic romantic at heart, and I wish I possessed the type of magic to comfort you during any difficult nights. Or even ordinary nights. Just a hug through a pillow or sending prayers to no gods while staring up at the sky. Granted, I was also doing it for my own sake. To feel needed. I wanted to trust in the fact that someone needs me. At one point, maybe that was my purpose. Of course, I'm nourishing too much independence and developing goals to assure it's not. Because I don't want to be a need. I want to be a choice-- a choice that you'll choose every day happily and of your own will. I want to be something that makes you smile even when we're apart. In ways, the sheer idea of you already has done that for me. If I spoke about it at length, maybe some would call it unhealthy, but if you ask me, a belief in love isn't the worst anchor to have in life. I think what I really want to convey is that love is something I've cherished seriously for a very long time. Just the thrill of knowing my words right now- my words from all these years ago- could reach you in the future is enough to inspire me. It's a reminder of the depths I'll want to continuously show you. It's a reminder of the trust I've given to let you read my ramblings from when I was twenty. It's not just because I feel safe in letting you read it, but because you're the only one who I want to read it, because I believe you're the one I've spent all these years wanting to meet. You're the reason I've never felt truly alone in life, and in return, I want to do my best to let you know you never are either. I've been trying my best to do so from the beginning. Thank you for meeting me. Thank you for being alive. It means more than you'll ever know.