Dear Future Me, 

Hi, it’s 2025 you, reporting live from study hall. I am writing this to you in the company of opened snack wrappers, half-read English and CL Euro, and a freshly cracked can of Waterloo. I’m not going to lie –– I’m slowly succumbing to the evilness of academic despair and the seasonal depression that is creeping upon me, but you, on the other hand, are very responsible, independent and obviously wiser and more put-together grown-up right?… Right?

There are a million things I want to ask, but let’s start with this: how does it feel to be free from check-ins and room inspection? I bet you’re really enjoying not having to take out the trash every night and being free from the fear of 10s and accidentally missing check-in. Do you still skip breakfast because you run out of time to get ready, and still set up 7 alarms just for you to wake up to the 7th one? Please tell me you’ve learned how to sleep before midnight. I know you’re such a night owl, but sleeping past 12 AM just to wake up the next morning to chug a highly caffeinated drink isn’t going to cut it. Trust me, I’m only 16 but I know that is not sustainable. 

I hope you’re more balanced and well-organized than I am right now. With all these rigorous classes and my amazing procrastination skills, I’m hanging on by a thread. If procrastination was a job, I’d be the world’s youngest billionaire.

Now, tell me: have you met the love of your life yet? Gosh, I hope there was some type of romance within the four years of high school… Even just a talking stage that wasn’t entirely delusional would be progress. But if not, that’s okay too. Maybe you’ve learned to love yourself more than anyone else could. (Though a cutesy walk around the loop with a little someone would’ve been nice.)

Okay, okay, I’ll quit with all the rambling nonsense. But seriously, I need to remind you about a few things to make sure you’re not taking life too much at heart. I hope you constantly remind yourself about how much you’ve grown as a person and how much you will continue to grow. Whenever you feel small, just remind yourself that you’re at least better than the freshman you who took two weeks to get used to the Loomis schedule. I hope preparing for college didn’t destroy you so much (even though I’m stressing about it at this very moment) and know that wherever you end up, you’re there for a reason. And hopefully a good one. 

More importantly, I hope you still care, not just about grades and tests, but about the dining hall chaos, the interesting hear-me-outs, the one teacher who actually makes history sound dramatic  –– the weird yet fun aspects that shape our lives.

Lastly, future me, I hope you’re proud. Not because everything went according to plan, but because you kept going even when it didn’t. You pushed through even when you got a C on your exam, dropped a class, missed a deadline or had some relational tension during your high school years. I hope you look back and laugh at how worried I am about the future, and realize that life is more of a breeze than a gust. No matter what, stay joyful, happy and be grateful for what you have in life, because, just like what dad always says, life is always about the journey and not the destination.

So, future me, wherever you are—whether still surrounded by snack wrappers or not—I hope you’re smiling at how far we’ve come. You made it.

With much love and maybe some embarrassment,

2025 you.