Dear reader from the future,
I am writing this in my 30s, reminiscing about my young self, aged 10. Looking back, I remember how I’ve always been in my head, dreaming about what kind of adult I would become, and how my life would turn out.
I had questions like: Will I never be able to leave our small city, running in circles between routine tasks that never seem to end? Will I ever go to places I have only read about in books, and do things I could only imagine? Will I ever have the chance to express my individuality instead of being trapped by the hand-me-downs I have to wear, which do not reflect who I am? Will I ever have the choice to make my life different from where my life seems headed?
In my youth, I always felt a voice within me, telling me and guiding me to pursue greatness, which on the outside really meant not settling for less just because I couldn’t imagine anything better.
And here I am, writing this two decades later, glad that I listened to that small voice, even when hardships push it to silence. I am glad I listened and pushed forward even when I couldn’t see what was possible.
You might be able to read this a decade from now, maybe even more. But I’d like to tell you I’ll keep pushing against the impossible until I see you face-to-face. I hope you are living life much better than I am today and I can’t wait to meet you!
Your letter writer from the past,
Jessa