That website where you can write yourself a message, and it'll send it back to you at a time of your choosing. Some use it for goal-setting, some as the ultimate confessional. The first random one I clicked on today was a little of both.
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Dear FutureMe,
I hope this Christmas is better than all the ones you have had since you went crazy.
That is, I hope this is the first good Christmas in six years of shitty ones.
I hope you get some money, or maybe even a nice comfy duvet for your house that you SHOULD BE LIVING IN WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND BY NOW.
If you ruined that... I apologise.
But I still hope you get a nice puffy duvet.
I hope mum is nice to you and I hope there isn't a family dinner for the siblings to take as an opportunity to pick on you. If there is I suggest you disappear without notice because you and I both know it will only end up making you feel crap. Like last Christmas.
And the one before that.
Etc etc etc etc right back until you were a pubescent blank slate.
Whatever you do, don't go to K-Fry. Because K-Fry on Christmas day is surely the beginning of the slow, painful end. Have a good Christmas night. Say goodbye to 2006 in a smashing way on New Year's Eve. Get horribly drunk and take some uppers. Make a fool of yourself. Hug strangers and throw rocks at passing police cars. Hump your friends on the corner of the street. Eat greasy drunk food. Sleep.
Give Briar a kiss for me. If she's not around, cut yourself like an angsty little emo kid for me. You know you want to ;)
Love always,
Your depressingly cynical, bitter and twisted 18 year old self.
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One of the purest slices of the human condition you can get? Or is it written to be read? The language suggests not - after all, there's plenty that's left unexplained. What happened 'last Christmas'? Why should one avoid the dreaded K-Fry? Or is this stuff filtered through layers of teen angst, what the media tells us we should be aspiring to? It's all very well to appreciate the idea of stranger-hugging, but who's set that agenda? So many questions, and only these shards of writing to offer any light. What will the historians of 2100 make of these?
Whoever you are or were, FutureYou, I hope you had that Christmas you were hoping for.
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