Introduction: How This Began

This isn't just a letter. It's like a mirror I've carried for a long time, even if I didn't realize it until now.

When I was 14, I wrote a letter to my future self. I imagined who I'd be at 18. In two months, I'll turn 18. A few days ago, I opened that old letter.

What I found wasn't hopeful or inspiring. It was... scary.

Almost every question I asked then was wrapped in one fear:

Did I survive?

Reading it shook me. I felt the pain, the depression, the loneliness. I was unsure I'd make it this far. It was like looking at a ghost from my past.

Now, here I am, still alive and still trying. I know I need to write another letter. Not because everything is perfect or because I have answers. But because I still have questions.

This time, it’s for my future self, five years from now, at 22 or 23.

I'm not writing to pretend I have hope. I'm not saying I'm better than I am. I'm writing because part of me still wonders:

• Will I survive?
• Will I become who I want to be?
• Will I fail?
• Will I change in ways I can't imagine?

I still fear dying young. Maybe that's why I need to ask these questions.

This isn't about pretending. It's about facing the real chance that maybe I won't make it.

And if I don’t, at least I'd have left something behind.

Part 1: Questions for My Future Self

Dear Future Me,

Right now, I don't know where I am or what's happened since I wrote this.

Maybe everything worked out. Maybe it didn't. Maybe I stuck with it. Maybe I gave up. Maybe I didn't survive.

Maybe I reached my dream. Maybe I didn't even come close. Maybe I’ve succeeded. Maybe I’m still struggling. Maybe I never saw the light.

But if you're reading this, if I’m still here, then I need to ask:

1. Have you found peace with yourself?
2. Are you still fighting the same battles, or have you learned to let go?
3. Are you happy right now? Not just pretending, really happy.
4. Are you the person you imagined you would be, or did life take you somewhere unexpected?
5. Did you slack off? Did you abandon your dreams, or did you stay true?
6. Did you achieve your dream, or is it still unfinished?
7. What are you doing today? What does your everyday life look like?
8. Are you a success, or a failure? And what does "success" mean to you now?
9. Did you face your fears? Like heights, driving, falling, those things you swore you'd beat.
10. Did you explore the world, or did you stay in one place, stuck?
11. Did you become what you feared, or did you become something better?
12. Did you make the right choices, or do you live with regrets?
13. Have you learned to let go, or are you still holding onto things you should have released?
14. Do you feel free, or are you still chained to the past?
15. What is one thing you wish I knew right now? If you could reach back and tell me anything, what would it be?

Part 2: Facing the Fear

There are some thoughts I keep to myself, and they follow me like shadows.

One of those thoughts is:

Did I end up without a home?

If not, then:

Did I make my dreams come true? Did I reach my goals? Did I face my fears, or did they defeat me?

Did something happen to me?

Did I pass away?

I’m not sure.

I’ve always been scared of dying young. Sometimes, it feels like it’s meant to happen. It’s like a heavy burden I can’t shake off.

Maybe it happened. Maybe it didn’t.

Maybe I battled through it. Maybe I didn’t.

Maybe I became what I feared. Or maybe I turned into something better.

Maybe fear took everything away. Or maybe it finally released me.

Did I complete my dream, or did fear stop me? Did I live a life worth talking about, or did my story end too soon?

I don’t know.

But this much is true: Even when scared Even when thinking I might not make it I wrote this.

And maybe that’s important.

Maybe it means I still hoped for a better future, even when I wasn’t sure I deserved it.

Part 3: If I’m Not Around

If I’m not there to read this If my story ended along the way Let this be what remains:

I kept it real.

I didn’t pretend to feel hope I didn’t have.

I faced the darkness inside me and kept reaching out. Even if I fell. Even if I didn’t make it.

Maybe trying wasn’t enough. Maybe it never is.

But for some time, I hoped. I believed, even when it was hard.

And maybe, maybe that's all there ever was.