As the title suggests, this is the second part of the mini-series of writing I’m attempting. As I said, I aim for the possible catharsis and healing properties often associated with these posts. I would understand if the series would not feel relatable to you, but I hope you’ll stay tuned in for the series regardless. So far, it has worked, sort of. I think I managed to connect with a part of myself from all those years. I know I didn’t touch on everything that happened during that time of my life, but I feel what I have written was enough to accomplish the goal of the series so far. Hopefully, the following two parts will do the same. Anyway, here we go again. The second part of this series will be dedicated to my 40-year-old self. The future starts now, old man.
I’m you. 15 years before where you are in the current timeline. I’m writing to you as a thought experiment I imposed on myself to see if I could… I don’t know, tell you what I know now which will hopefully help us somehow. Maybe telling you my hopes and dreams for us when we’re forty will help me be a better person now and hopefully help you achieve what we both want from ourselves. As per the letter that I wrote to our 10-year-old self, I guess this would be a good place to start before I let my thoughts and feelings loose to a professional. I know I’m still way behind you as a person. I’m certain that you’ve grown to be a much better version of us.
I’ll be honest, this letter is difficult to write. You’re in the future, after all. I don’t know where you are and how you are. I’m hoping that I still have an idea of who you are. I’m certain we’ve gone through some changes, especially emotionally and perhaps spiritually. I’m not going to mention physical changes because, hey, it’s inevitable. I’m hoping that since we’re 40 years old, we’ve gone off to be way more mature than we are now. Although, I hope our maturity doesn’t change our love of fun, adventures, and explorations. Victor Hugo said, “Forty is the old age of youth; fifty is the youth of old age.” By that definition, you’re still young, although in an oldish manner. I hope we’re looking at the world in an optimistic way coupled with a dash of our trademark Debbie Downer cynicism.
As I said in the last paragraph, this letter is difficult to write. All my hopes and dreams for you are still hopes and dreams that can change in an instant due to the unpredictable nature of time and chance. However, I’m trying to focus and guess on the things that, hopefully, have the most likelihood of happening. We’re 40, so I assume that we’re most likely married. 10 years in at least, I hope? I always envisioned us being married when we’re 27, probably because that’s about the age Dad and Mom got married. Marriage life is undoubtedly tough. I obviously can’t give you any marriage advice. Still, perhaps I can delight you with a small piece of advice that you’ve probably heard a million times and have even done so, but let me remind you again: talk it out, and communicate. I’d say that it’s all down to mutual respect with a compromise here and there. Then again, what do I know? I’m probably still absolutely clueless about how relationships are supposed to work. I hope that you’ve figured it out. I have 2 years to do so. Fingers crossed, man. I don’t know who you end up with, but I’m hoping that we ended up with someone who will cherish and respect us. I know that we’re far from perfect, but I know we would probably give all the love we can to this person.
I suppose at your point in the timeline you’d already have children, or maybe just a child. I guess we’d want multiple though, so they don’t experience the “loneliness” we felt as an only child. We have, of course, seen sibling examples every day of our lives and I know we’re hoping that our children would be good siblings to each other. Besides that, I hope you take the good lessons and ways our parents taught us and pass them on to our children. Set them on their way with expectations that won’t burden them too much, while maintaining a good amount of discipline and limitations, I guess. We’re probably going to be more liberal than our parents ever were, but of course, some things are subject to your discretion.
I’m running out of things to write to you about, man. As I said earlier, it’s probably not surprising, though. You’re in the future. Not that far away in the future, but the mysteries of the future cloud my words. I can only send this letter off with wishing that you’re happy, loving, and loved. I know for certain that you are the better man that I am now. I hope to become that man. After all, I am you.