Dear Adult me,
Did you succeed in all those crazy plans you made? Every day I look at my to-do list and just say to myself "Not today." But what about you? Did you get off your lazy butt and actually do those things listed? Did you write those countless stories, play all of those amazing games, learn all the knowledge to satisfy you, listen to every song on those lists received, read every book suggested, and all the while still manage to do the chores at home and hang out with every friend?
There's so much I want to ask you, but there's nothing you can say. I want to know if the life I've made now will be the life I have forever. Some days it feels like that's true. Other days it feels like everything I've lived through is a lie.
Did you ever tell that guy how you really feel? That girl? Did you ever become a mother?
As our sister traversed life along side us, we both know the things she went through, and a refresh on her history only strengthens it more. It's scary to think that you might be exactly like her—I know I'm already scared I might be following her footsteps. I at least hope you didn't go through more boyfriends than you can count, and I hope you never lost the chance to have a child, because wanting to be a mother is something our sister longs to do. But more importantly, I wonder if you ever admitted to those friends those feelings of desire. Despite them being girls such as ourselves, I still wonder if you ever had the strength to admit it—the strength that I lack.
Will my best friends still be the best? My worst enemies the worst?
Our mom tells many stories of friends lost, and very few of friends found. I don't want to expect my friends to leave me forever, but I also try to prepare for what could come. But preparing for the loss of a friend is like losing the friend already. I can't do that to them, but at the same time, I can't know if they will still be there after next summer. On the other side, some friends turn around and lost interest in us, becoming enemies for life. If only upon seeing someone's face I could tell if they were a best friend forever of a friend forever forgotten.
Did you ever run away from home? Did your worst fear ever get realized? Did you ever do what you promised yourself you wouldn't?
I scare myself when I think about who you could be—because I actually don't know if you will be the same me. In countless tales of woe, a young maiden becomes a fearsome dragon, or a courageous young boy into a murderous, greedy criminal. It's scary to think that such a person could become me. However I have faith in you—in us. No matter how close it may seem, I know we will be strong. We won't let into the temptation; well, I at least hope not.
Do you still have that drawer full of junk? Did you ever meet our father face to face?
I'm sure I've pushed so many objects from our father to the back of that drawer, and although I can remember them well, I hope that you've forgotten them. But if that drawer is gone, then I'm sure you were forced to remember; or rather, you were forced to remember that you don't remember. I can only guess what that lack of memory might have done to you, so I wonder if you ever put in the effort to find him—to meet him. And I wonder if he is exactly how mom says he is.
Countless other questions rush through my head, but they all merge together and become the same. All I want to know, all I want to ask, is who exactly are we? But as I said before, there's nothing you can say. For all I know you might be watching me as I write this right now. For all I know you could be dead. In the end, the only thing I can say is that I don't know, and that I can't wait to see who exactly are we.