To my younger self,
You’re probably skating through the streets,
Wheels humming like a heartbeat,
Lost in the rush of wind and freedom.
Keep that feeling close—it doesn’t fade.
Not everything needs to.
I’m doing okay, believe it or not.
No, I’m not the artist or the adventurer you dreamed of,
But I’ve found a place,
A job that isn’t perfect but offers a path,
Even if it’s not the one we mapped out.
And guess what?
The games still bring joy,
The same crew still laughing, still losing hours
To worlds that feel bigger than this one.
It’s okay to stay young,
To carry the fire of your wild ideas.
There’s no clock chasing you,
No race to be someone else’s version of grown.
Breathe.
Things move forward, even when they hurt.
But now to you, my future self—
I have to confess something.
That comfort I just offered? It’s a half-truth.
Right now, it’s hard.
Harder than I let the past know.
The days blur,
And the nights are loud with questions
I can’t seem to answer.
I want to ask you what to do—
What path to take, what risk to make—
But I already know your answer:
Keep going.
It’s the only advice we’ve ever trusted, isn’t it?
I don’t know what you will look like,
If the years have been kind to your reflection Or just heavier in their weight.
I don’t know where you stand,
What city, what job, what life you’ll claim as your own.
But I do know this:
No matter how lost I feel,
No matter how hard it gets,
I’ll keep trying, keep pushing.
Not for the world,
Not even for the past me
But for you.
So that one day,
You’ll look back and know
I did my best to get us here.
Yours,
The in-between,
The uncertain,
The still-trying.
