A Letter From
Your Future Self

Hey. It's me. Two weeks now.

Fourteen days. Two weeks ago that sentence would have sounded like someone else's life. It's yours.

Last week I asked you to bring me the mess instead of the silence. This week you did.

Day 9 you called Marcus after five years, and the silence you'd been dreading lasted “about four seconds, then we were laughing.”

Week three is the one that matters. Seven days left. The best ones.

You