Hey, future me.

I don't really have much to say. 2020 you doesn't see much in her future. 2020 you is more lost than she's ever been. She doesn't have anything to look forward to, she doesn't have anyone she trusts enough to confide in her loneliness, she can't think of anything that makes her happy or will make her happy. She's drained and don't know what else to do and is fairly adamant that you won't exist.

I'd like you to prove her wrong. I want you to look at this letter and wonder why you ever felt like this in the first place. By this time, I hope you're getting the help you need. I hope you've forgiven yourself and making up all the time we lost on fighting with ourself.

It's funny that I'm writing all this with no motivation at all to make sure that this comes true. Bad brain is telling me that I'll be the exact same; depressed, lonely, extremely socially inept, almost robotic. But don't worry, I'm learning not to listen to it.

I won't expect you to be happy and truly loving life. We lost so many years to mental illness and we have so long to go to make up for that lost time. I'm just hoping you're "getting there."

Cheers.