with love, from the future

written at 33 · to my 19-year-old self

There will be a harbor. I promise you there will be a harbor — a person, a city, a Tuesday-night group chat, something — where you stop scanning the room for exits. You're not there yet. You will be.

— Anonymous

written from the place that became that harbor

with love,

from the future


15 letters have been left here.