To you I disclose the thoughts of the future. It's my hope that this letter find you well, that Whoever you are is someone I want to be. But even if not, to your credit you survived, and I could only dream that you are the type who would keep surviving.
I must confess I face you with fear, there being no set in stone guarantee that my ambitions should succeed. I'm all too aware of the fact that there's a real possibility my life would take a turn for the worse, my blessings coming with the aftertaste of the knowledge that I could lose them.
All the same I excite myself with who you may be. You could very well be weaker then me, but you could very well be stronger as well. And whatever happiness I find is happiness I look forward too, I only hope you recognized it when it came.
Perhaps I idealize you. Maybe I have a specific picture of you in my head. But that picture is mine and mine alone, and I think I wish that you would actually not be that picture. I want to be surprised, I want to see if maybe what I'm doing now is only leading me to what you do. Maybe I'm starting the journey you've already finished.
But these thoughts of you are trivial, not worth the energy I put into them. Whatever will be will be, and I need to let this obsession go. So I write you this letter in good health and hope to be done with you until such a time where I will be you.
Who You Used To Be