Dear future me.

It’s the 22nd of November, 2017. It’s Wednesday.

I’m sixteen right now and I’m in my room, the room you once loved, your one and only safe place. Do you remember what it looked like?

Those fairy lights I begged Mom to get me for my birthday, I have them on.

Do you still have them, wherever you are? Do all of them still work?

Do you still like to put up your sketches on the wall, with black cello-tape, so you could be surrounded by all the thoughts you have at night?

You know, I was trying to play this new song on my guitar, but you know I’m no good. Are you still the same, or did you finally learn to play something other than A minor and C? The barre chords, maybe?

Where do you live? In a dorm room? With a roommate? Or is it your own house? I hope it looks just how I picture it. Please tell me there are photographs in the bedroom, and paintings near the coffee table. You still hate curtains, right?

Is December still your favourite month, the hills still your favourite getaway?

I wonder how you look.

Do you still wear your hair like I do? All messed up, sometimes tucked behind my ear, otherwise all over my face; a reflection of my messy soul. Or did you actually learn to make a bun?

Did you get lenses, or can you still not move on from the nerdy black frame?

Do you wear make up now, or are you still this lazy?

I wouldn’t be surprised if you were.

Have you learnt to love your love handles?

Is gray still your favourite color? Is your handwriting even worse than mine?

Do you still listen to music that no one else really understands? You still have my never ending playlists, right?

Do you go sit in the verandah when you want to think? Do you have a verandah?

Do you look for beauty in everything you come across?

Do you pay attention to the small things?

Do you hate roses?

Do you dance around the room at night to retro music, on the good days?

Did you stop wearing vanilla perfume for something like, lemongrass?

Do you smoke a little too much? Mint flavoured ones? Or is that a very teen thing?

Are you in touch with my best friends? Do you still call them up and tell them almost everything?

I wouldn’t mind if you found yourself new ones. But don’t forget mine either. They mean a lot to me.

I hope you are surrounded by people you adore, who bring out the best in you. I hope you still believe in second chances, and I hope potential possibilities do not sting any more.

Do you still use too many commas and too many paragraphs?

How many strings do you still have attached to the life I live?

Are you in love?

Are you still in love with the sadness? The nothingness?

And, I want you to know that I’m sorry I could never get you the rosy teenage butterflies and stars kind of fling, one you could look back upon.

What are your dreams? Are they the same as mine?

Do you still dream?

Do you end up staying up late doing nothing?

I want you to stop staring out of windows, and I want you to live your life.

But promise me you will remember to think, and remember to remember.

Hey.

Are you in touch with yourself?

Are you in touch with me?

Are you happy?