OPEN LETTERS

An Open Letter to Future Me

Past me would like a word

Dear Future Me,

It has come to my attention that you have, for many years now, been heaping a lot of blame for various bad decisions at my door.

Word on the grape vine is that you have distanced yourself from the Hawaiian shirt and red-streaked hair combo we used to rock on a night out, saying that past you was an idiot with no taste.

I also appear to be getting the blame for our ex-girlfriend — you know the one — and the decision not to walk away when everyone told us to. I find this particularly egregious as, from my point of view, it only just happened, and have yet to replace the clothes she burned.

From drinking too much to teasing that dog, there seems to be no end to the things you’re willing to blame on me, and me alone.

Here’s the thing, future me, if you are so easily detached from our behaviour, you are also detached from the consequences, so I think it’s about time you stopped moaning about it!

Yes, I decided to jump off that wall to impress Samantha when we were nine years old, and I had to deal with the twisted ankle it gave me. It’s true that I damn near had to have my stomach pumped when I was twenty after drinking far too much, but I felt like death for the next three days.

Quite frankly, I feel like you’re absolving yourself of responsibility while fishing for sympathy over what your reckless “past self” has done to you, and I don’t like.

But you know what you can blame me for? That paunch. I know you’re sensitive about your weight, chunky boi. I’m going out for a burger with a side of more burger.

Yours Eventually,

Past Me

If you enjoyed reading me fight with myself, you might also enjoy reading my take on tens of thousands of Greeks and Persians fighting with each other;