Well, hello. It feels as if I’m writing just another normal letter to a different person, though I know I’m writing it to myself. Writing a letter to myself. That sounds like a love song, except really, really weird. But, I wanted to ask you, how am I doing in life? I am aware that that is a really awkward question to ask myself. It could leave yourself feeling proud about who you are, or could make you feel really, really, bad.
Did I turn out to be the person who I always have dreamed of being? Or, did I end up living in a worn-down home, being (the nicer way of saying fat) overweight, and spending most of my days slumped over a couch?
Are most of my pastimes brought out with me doing something productive in my life, having fun, and living life to the limits, or do I enjoy to just slouch over a plate of spaghetti holding a fork?
If you are wondering a little bit about me, my name is Charlie, in case you forget that for any reason. If you forgot the entirety of your childhood, you must be dysfunctional and weird, so I’m just going to look right past that. To avoid asking anymore questions following that category, I’ll just give a little bit about myself, or yourself, however I should say it. I’m Charlie, as I said before, and I live in a small town in New Jersey. Most of my life follows around my ambition of shaping my career as a writer, and for the most part, I don’t know whether or not to say I’m very good or bad at it. I mean, in my past, the first time I ever wrote anything was a little book I made in crayon. Specifically purple crayon, though. It was a fan-fiction of Scooby-Doo!, which I loved at the time, and there was no use of a stapler when I finished. I just taped it, but I taped it backwards, so it looks like a mixture of a Japanese book and a big scroll of paper. Since then, I have made a series of other bad books like that, and I went from sitting in a chair with a pencil, to sitting in a chair in front of the computer typing away at this blog. My major life achievements were…um.. I made this blog? I got a soccer trophy when I was 6? Even though anyone can make a blog, and the soccer coaches are forced to give out trophies to everyone, it still feels nice to me.
I now think you’re pretty weirded out by what I’m saying. I know, all of that stuff, me assuming you’re weirded out, sounding like I’m writing a dang autobiography of myself (or yourself) as a kid. It may seem to you as I’m using you as an excuse to write another type of about page, but no. Because when I’m old, arthritis-stricken and used to sitting in the same chair each day, I’d like to have a little something to remember my past, to read over and over again when I am facing the darkest of times. I’m putting a little piece of me, not physically, but with these very words, in to this very letter, for you to know that I will always be there. I know that because I am you, and because there will never be a moment when your 10-year-old self will doubt the future. Just know that I will always have hope in you- in us- and with that, we can reach the limits we’ve always dreamed of reaching together.