Dear future me,

Life doesn't suck right now. Life is full and messy and novel and evolving. I am not so much any of those things - other than messy - right now, and I feel the friction. And I mistake that friction for hardship or a reason for self-pity instead of the pain that tells me I haven't lost my ability to feel yet, the push that teaches me to push back, the corner that teaches me to get creative at building my own windows and doors.

I know you, and I know that you are looking back at me thinking, How cute, you dummy. You no longer feel sorry for me, instead you cherish my affinity for the dramatic - oh the luxury of entertaining it - and my hope in the face of myself. You are proof that I am headed someplace. You are, in theory, that place.

Tell me, how's the food?

xo, present me

(PS - My first article is up at TNGG: Boston: Bye, Bye 9 to 5: The 'Renaissance Career' is Here!)