Letters from your future

Dear 2005 you:

You are having problems sleeping. You are so affected your grandfather gives you sleeping pills whenever he sees you struggling in bed, looking all over the place, wanting and not wanting to see him. You think he will be the first thing you see when you open your eyes, so you cannot even close them. You are sad and scared. How can someone’s death bring you this much pain? You are falling apart, things happen around you, but you barely notice. You’ll even feel sad after winning a hula competition. Yeah, you win, but it won’t be that good since you are feeling down.

You remember everything about his death. Even through the years you never forget the date, nor the promise you made to go and visit him some time. You haven’t yet. Maybe that’s the reason you can’t let go.

You were painting a mug when your cousin arrived with the bad news. Somehow you knew, because that was your answer. He died, and she said yes. At first you did not believe it, but then you heard someone yelling his name while she rushed to his house. You felt a shiver, your heart almost stopped beating, and then you knew it. He was truly dead. A couple of minutes later your cousin told you what happened. He was out with some friends. One of them was too drunk he almost got hit by a car, he pushed him out of the way and got himself hit instead. It was a hit and run. He died instantly. His brain fractured, she said. You felt something weird inside your chest, but there was no reaction from you. You went to sleep like you normally did, the next day you went to school, and when you got home, you found out you had to go to his house. The body had arrived, and your grandmother made you go even though you refused.

You saw him. He looked asleep, if it weren’t for the white marks on his face, and the stitches covered with makeup, you would have thought he was truly asleep. You even had the feeling he would open his eyes and laugh at you. You looked away. Everything was fine, though. Then his mom saw you. She reminded you of the times you used to hang out with her son, she told you all the nice things he said about you, and you broke, your heart gave in to the pain. You cried so hard your grandmother had to hold you. Things went south after that. You couldn’t sleep at night because you thought you’d see him inside your dreams or out. Nothing seemed real, so your grandfather gave you a temporal relief.

You eventually lost count of the times you woke up thinking about him. You even have a song that reminds you of him, and you don’t like to listen to it anymore.

That was the first death that made you sad, your first experience dealing with something like that. Of course, you know, there will be a couple more, right? Be prepared, for it doesn’t get any easier with time.

On the other hand, you are doing great on your hula lessons. You suck at ballet, but it’s easier to move your hips that to split your legs open and stand on your tip toes. You friends are good, you care about them, and you have fun with them at school, mostly because you all are messed up and don’t care about your classes, which is bad. Get to study, damn it! And then, you feel happy because your best friend has not changed, you still talk, and write letters, and chat, and love each other. You are lucky. Also, you still regret not saying good bye to him. You dream about him, and in there he is mad at you for going away with no words. You want to see him, you pray that you will. You hope, sweaty. You are still innocent, you think wishes come true. If only that was a true thing. If only.

You are growing up, darling. You no longer have your eyes covered to certain things. You see you grandfather, the most intelligent man you’ll ever know, stuck in his addiction, and feel sad. How can this great man become a blabbering person under the effects of alcohol? How lost can he be that he can only find himself within the depths of a bottle of Vodka? His room smells of cigarettes, alcohol, and puke. In the future, you’ll find yourself smelling that scent and closing your eyes, because that’s the only he left behind, and sometimes the smell rises and brings his memory back. You also live with a drug addict. He takes your clothes away, your jewelry, and he sells it so he can get high. Sometimes there is one relapse per person, but there are times both of them relapse and there is darkness inside the house. It’s hell, but you love it there, and yet you wish you were living with your parents, who happened to have moved out of the place you ran away from, so now there is no change you’ll see him again. Remember how I asked you to say good bye? Well, now you know the reason. Joke’s on you.

Now my tips for survival. You may not need them, but I would like to tell you, anyway.

You’ll lose a friend to a girl. It was an interesting battle, but at the end you lost.

You’ll have a crush on a ballet dancer. He is also your neighbor. Or was. Who knows? You’ll never see him again.

You’ll keep having problems with your family. They think you are short tempered, mean, and too outspoken for their liking. You are.

Your grades will be awful. If you don’t want your grandmother to embarrass you in front of your friend about said horrible grades, you’ll better do your homework and avoid getting kicked out of classes.

You’ll meet your first literary love. Don’t cry too much when he dies.

You’ll have a series of accidents that will affect you physically. Be careful.

You’ll get drunk for the first time. Don’t drink too much, otherwise you won’t stomach alcohol when you are older.

Stop smoking. It’s disgusting.

You are a year away from seeing your friends for the last time. Enjoy them.

You are a year away from becoming an adult (technically). Also, enjoy. You’ll miss it.

Your aunt will let you fall and you’ll injure your big toe. Don’t kill her. I swear it doesn’t hurt that much anymore.

You’ll have a lot of nightmares. Most of them are vampires and werewolves. Enjoy them as well.

Enjoy life, it gets better and worse.

 

From your 2016.

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238 thoughts on “Letters from your future

  1. Tanya Cliff says:

    Interesting letter. My dad died shortly before my 19th birthday. His funeral began with an open casket visitation. I hated it! Right before the funeral, his immediate family…us…had to walk up to the casket. Everyone just watched. We were supposed to say “goodbye” to him, BUT it wasn’t him…just his dead body. People waited. Finally, I swore under my breath and kissed his forehead…It felt like cold rubber. I cringe thinking about it. Cremation. My vote is for cremation…
    The drama around that funeral did NOTHING to make my transition easier. I hope the current you doesn’t smoke anymore…my dad died from lung cancer. He started smoking at 15 and died at 43.

    Like

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