Write a Letter to Your Future Self

This is a series of letters from myself to my selves as I grew up and grew around suicidal ideation. Please proceed carefully, especially if you are sensitive to such themes.

Age 15

Hey, Alex.

I really hope you fixed things with our online friend. You need to trust her. I hope you still talk to her. She’s the only thing that turned out right for me. If she isn’t for you, then you messed up. She fixed everything. I love her. If she doesn’t want you anymore, I’m sorry.

Please cut off the friends that don’t support me. You aren’t selfish, and you won’t be around someone who is. They hurt our best friend. If you cut off my best friend, I understand. She’s been difficult, but she was a good friend when she was a friend. You better have a reason for it.

Go back to the musicians I love. When you read this, I want your playlist for our online friend to be 20 songs long. Keep writing poetry. Keep walking, too. Preferably not barefoot because I have blisters now.

I love you. Even if I’m finding it hard to love me, I love you. Adulthood is scary. If you give up, I get it. Just wait a little longer to decide.

Alex Ivory Jaleson

Age 16

Alex Ivory Jaleson, I’m sorry.

I didn’t live up to what you wanted, and it still kind of upsets me. I am still undecided about my name. I’m keeping yours as my middle name.

That playlist for our friend is only one song. We don’t talk anymore. I miss her sometimes, but it’s better now. They promised you they would make more effort. They failed, and they didn’t have an excuse. They might have done us some good, but we learned to be happy with flowers.

There are lots of old friends we can’t stand who have tried to reconnect with me. I was forced to see them every day until the quarantine started.

It takes about two weeks before the obsessive fixation wears off after you meet new people. For future’s sake, always wait that out before addressing it so you aren’t trapped in a relationship with someone you don’t have feelings for.

The reason we keep falling for people with space issues is because we need to learn not to be dependent and clingy. If I haven’t succeeded, you need to. And you can. I trust you.

We were in love with our online friend, but we’re okay. I need you to keep writing poetry. Mine has been happier recently. We’re better with poetry than narration. If you can stand it, though, write a novel with a naive idealist protagonist and let her win. Let it work. Tell people that aggressive optimism is the solution.

Don’t forget your photography project. You’ll have to be face-to-face with people you don’t want to see, but I want it to be your life’s work. You’ll have your coffee shop, your poetry, hopefully your poetry book, and you’ll have this photo series, The Major Arcana.

Keep going.

Love, Corey? Jeremy? Dante? Alexander Jaleson

Age 17

Hey all.

We made some mistakes and we lost touch with our spiritual beliefs, but we’re going to fix things with the next full moon.

We’re having a hard time with our girlfriend, but I think it’s okay. They reject our spiritual beliefs, which hurts sometimes.

Don’t forget that novel. You still have to write it someday.

I don’t have much to tell you. Just forgive Jaleson for thinking we were so attached to our old online friend. They weren’t that great.

We did figure out that everything leads back to wanting attention. We always felt like the seventh wheel.

Corey Alexander Rehm

Age 18

To us,

Everything leads back to attention because y’all have mommy issues. Who could’ve guessed?

I think we’ve been dissociating for a long time. We've never had stability. We moved 10 times in 18 years. Our parents were on and off with who was home and who was working. Our parents were on and off with whether their relationship was working.

It’s bad for us. This is why we have always worked best in chaos, under pressure. We don't know how to handle calm. We disrupt our own life now if our parents and friends won't do it for us.

Someday, maybe we’ll get better. We’re in therapy, but we’re not there yet. We’re working on dissociation and vulnerability.

I haven’t corrected myself yet from my first letter. I am selfish. That’s okay. That’s a good way to be. That’s how we all are.

I'm tired. Things would be easier if I could die or stop time. I also think I'm happy. It's all very difficult and counterintuitive.

We're in college now. I'm tired.

I learned yesterday that it's because I need to eat. Can you believe it took me 18 and a half years to figure out that when you're sad, anxious, and procrastinating, it's because you ran out of energy and need to refill? Two meals a day is a good measurement. Intuitive eating is genius. Human bodies are so cool.

See you next time, Corey Alexander

Age 19

Dear Violet (age 6),

You have always felt unloved, unwanted, and alone. You have always felt the demeaning isolation from adults. You have always fought back.

You knew the adults weren’t okay. They weren’t kind. They didn’t understand you and they didn’t understand their own wounds. They still don’t.

Dear Alex (age 15),

You were never destructive, explosive, or abusive. You were never a bad person. You were manipulative only in the technical sense. You were always trying to be heard, seen, and understood. You were put in a terrible, hurt place every time you were misunderstood and you always fought back.

You told yourself you were bad and wrong for that. You were just hurt.

You always deserved better. You were always good. You are so loving and understanding and kind. You deserve to be seen. You deserve to be wanted.

Dear Corey (age 18),

You are so easy to love and so worth loving. You’re perceptive and intelligent. At the peak of your intelligence, when you are truly vulnerable with someone, you still won’t be able to tell them how to understand you.

Someone who loves you will still make you feel unloved and unwanted. If they truly love you, they’re apologetic. They’ll want to do better. Sometimes they will be better. Sometimes you will still get hurt.

You are always okay in the end.

I love you.

Love, Sunny

Age 20

Dear sunny,

You live in seasons: seasons when you’re contently miserable, and seasons when you’re intently joyful.

Your name feels silly in your own mouth. It belongs to someone else now. Someone whose name doesn’t live in your mouth.

You know what it feels like to be loved so much that people forego their own sense. They don’t tell you their boundaries and they don’t stand by them. They’ll hate you for it. It’s not because you’ve done something wrong. They love you so strongly that they don’t even consider what they want anymore, except to make you happy. Seeing you happy makes them believe they matter. You are so lovable that people lose love and turn to devotion. You are a religious experience. You are angelic. When gods step foot on Earth, they are hated. They are hated because they are loved.

You want to die, and you are still so overwhelmed with love that when you sat down to write this letter, you called yourself an angel. You breathe praise. You love yourself so deeply. I love myself so deeply. I love you so deeply.

love, angel

Age 21

Dear angel, sunny, corey, alex, violet.

Reading your letters makes me cry.

Adulthood isn’t so scary anymore. I just finished an associate degree. I don’t know if you knew enough about what that means to have been proud of me. I try really hard to be proud of me. I still try and diminish that it’s something to be proud of.

I’m driving more. I know that the future versions of me will be grateful and proud. I’m making progress. I fear that each weekend I make plans I lose progress. I’m not gentle with myself over that, but I can already hear the next letter being gentle for me.

All you have to do is keep driving. Keep drawing until you can sell stickers. Even if it’s not profitable, it will be fun and impressive to tell people you did it. You’ll be so proud of yourself. I am so proud of you.

I love you.

I can do this.

I’m okay. You guys might be more okay than me. You’re definitely more passionate than me. That can be both lovely and agony. I’ve come to terms with the fact that art is agony. A muse is a tragedy.

That tragedy is worth it. You deserve to have someone adore you. You deserve love songs and poems and throwing plates if you want it. You’re afraid that all good love comes with a bad ending, or bad love a good one. You’re afraid of change.

Hold that fear closely. It’s not your life if one chapter doesn’t end tragically, giving way under your feet for you to start a new one.

I hope someday you lay down this ending and start your next one. We keep picking at scabs because we miss passion and attention and we only know them when we’re hurting. But you are still good without the attention. You are still real without being seen.

I am very cold. We want comfort. We also want bugs to stop coming inside during summer.

Wanting things is a good start. It proves you do still have some passion. I’m proud of you.

Love, dogbird

About the Author

I’m an LYF administrator and wellness coordinator who works closely with the writing teams. I have a background in journalism, technical writing, poetry and creative prose.

Introspection and careful behavioral analysis have been my most refined skill. I take a deep care in observing and understanding the people around me. It’s an interest that is only fair or possible to do if you're 100% accepting of what you're going to find in people. To discover the things they can't admit because they dislike it in themselves is cruel and unkind unless you take on a particular perspective that at worst their worst traits are neutral.

I define myself by that perspective of radical acceptance, and I hope that you as readers can feel warmth in my work.