Dear Future Me,
So now that you are an old, old woman, New York Times Bestseller (right before they were bought out my that conglomerate of space aliens), wildly wealthy and successful, I thought I’d leave a letter for you to read. Or take in by osmosis or whatever it is we do now in the future. I’m sure it’s awesome. Do we have hover cars? Because I feel like we’ve been waiting for that a long time.
Anyway, sorry. I just really want to know about those hover cars. Write me back. You can do that, right?
Sorry again. Here are the things I hope you did:
- I hope you didn’t just work all the time. Because seriously, what’s the fun of working for yourself if your boss is an asshole. Have a me day. Have a me day once a week. Have a weekend. Just don’t work all time.
- I hope you traveled a lot more. You liked doing that for a long time and then you stopped. So I hope you picked it back up and completed your ‘every continent goal’. Especially before Antartica melted. Or is it a resort now? Tell me when you write me back about the hover cars.
- I hope you appreciated your friends. You have good ones. They’re nice. They’re often better people than you are. Try to make sure they never figure that out. Are they reading this now? Quick, act casual.
- I hope you appreciated that you get to write books and they PAY YOU! Assuming you continued doing that, of course. Maybe you took over a small country instead. Which is cool too. But the writing thing may still be cooler. So appreciate it.
That’s all I can think of now. Mostly because I’m violating rule number 1 and working all the time. Still, it’s nice to think of a faraway forward day where you might be old and decrepid and getting ready to go windboarding or something. Cause that would be sweet.
Don’t forget about the hover car thing.