Dear Future Wanderer,

The present is flooded with the desire to know the future; people incessantly want to know what will happen rather than what is happening.

With this in mind, I hope you understand that, in this letter, I refuse to ask you questions. I will not demand answers because I am not meant to hold them in my hands. My present is my present, and yours is yours. I have no desire to know what to look forward to or what to dread. After all, one of the greatest things about life is that it is unexpected and whimsical. The future is so unknown, and yes, it terrifies me, but I am content with the fact that I know that everything happens for a reason.


I am hopeful for who you are: I hope that you make an effort to pray to God regularly; I hope you treat others kindly and are just as kind to yourself; I hope you’ve found love; I hope you are making people happy; I hope you are making impacts. I hope no one has dissuaded you from doing so.

I am reminding you that experience is, in every situation, worth more than money ever could— memories are invaluable and precious. So, I hope you’ve traveled around the world. I hope you’ve met dreamers, failures, lovers, addicts, and healers. I hope you’ve collected memories with these people and cradled them in your arms like they were made of porcelain.


I am confused about who I am. I hope you’ve figured yourself out by now. And, if you haven’t, I promise you that there is still time. Time, after all, is continuous and forever– energy is not. I am not planning to be a physicist, but I hope you are putting your energy into things that matter.

I hope that you still value education. I hope that college treated you well, and that you are aspiring for the stars (I hope that you still look up at Orion with a smile on your lips). I hope that you followed a career in publishing. I hope that you never listened to the people who told you that you are raising yourself up only to crash. I hope you’ve self-published anthologies. I hope you’ve written a memoir.

I hope you are someone that our sister can look up to. I hope that, at this point, she sees you as the big sister that you are rather than a distant friend. I do hope you still value your friends as much as your family. They are loyal to a fault, and I hope you still learn from their words and heed their advice.

Live every moment like it’s your last. Live in your present rather than in your future. And, like me, I hope you ask questions and continue to search for your own answers.


2 thoughts on “Letter to My Adult Self

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