Every time I attempt to write a letter from future me to the current version of myself, she ends up sounding like the kindest, most considerate person I’ve ever met. And I just don’t get how I still believe in a gentler side of me, when all I do is roast my old selves in my head for every mistake they’ve ever done. How I still expect to be forgiven for things I’m currently unable to let go of. And how the words I so badly wish I’d hear right now, are the same ones I refuse to comfort any of my earlier versions with.