So last year, while Jake was in Scotland, I spent way too much time on the computer dicking around on stupid websites, and one of the websites I found was this website called “FutureMe.Org”, where you can write a letter to your future self and they will send it to you on the date you specified.
Until this morning, I had completely forgotten that I even wrote myself a letter, but I checked my email today and there it was, an email from past Catie to the me sitting here writing this right now.
It’s kind of a weird feeling. I have seen so much and experienced so much in just one short year, but at the same time, it still feels like it was last week when Jake was in Scotland and I painted the kitchen. There are so many differences in the person who I am today as opposed to 364 ago, but there are still the constants that haven’t changed.
So here it is. This is really more for me, than anyone else who may come upon this blog, but enjoy anyway if you aren’t me.
July 4th, 2011
Happy 4th of July. Right now I’m sitting at the computer desk having just eaten and thrown up pancakes and watched the latest episode of Doctor Who. Jake is in Scotland and you miss him. Gross. Really, though, stop throwing up. It’s gross and at some point you’re going to have to come clean to your friends about it and then it’s going to be awkward every time you go to pee at a restaurant.
Sara and Adam just moved in across the street and painted their living room purple, which is a great idea but it would be awkward if you do the same thing. So don’t. Red is fine.
Things are okay. You miss Jake more than you care to admit and you’ve spent the last three days painting the kitchen in the vain hopes that he might like you a little bit better when he comes home. You also have begun to realize you need to stop trying to be a wedding planner because it’s just going to make you jealous.
You desperately want Lavinia but you think you’re too fat to play the part and you seriously doubt you can make yourself that vulnerable on stage without humiliating yourself.
Your job is okay. Your boss is a bitch but the job is fun, and you have an interview in a couple of days for a job you don’t want, but you’re going anyway.
Life is….okay. There is so much that you haven’t figured out yet, but you keep telling yourself that that’s okay. You probably have depression. look into that.
You still owe 800 bucks to the IRS and the Escapist owes you 400. The house looks like shit and you don’t care because you’ve been watching Dexter all day and eating popsicles.
All in all, you are pretty awesome. You’ve got your issues and your hang-ups, but you keep a handle on them. You didn’t realize that you would miss Jake’s stupid face as much as you do and you’re mad at yourself for it.
You are beautiful. You know this deep down, and every so often there is a glimmer of that thought that you have when the light is right and you’ve woken up without hurting. Get into shape this year, if you haven’t started already.
The thought just occurred to me that between now and the time of getting this email you and Jake may not be together– but you can’t fathom why–it is also the worst and saddest feeling in the world. You, girl, are in the comfortable type of love that is going to get you through life. It might not be an exciting rollercoaster ride of badassery, but every time you see him at the end of a long day, your heart is happy and you smile, and that’s what matters the most. And he likes Shakespeare. And sword fighting.
Figure your shit out and donate three bags of stuff to Salvation Army. you have too much clothes.
Stop questioning everything and overthinking things until your brain wants to explode. Live in the moment, Catie. That’s what you need to do most. Stop fucking worrying about what everyone else thinks and stop telling stupid stories when you don’t need to. Paint the bathroom if you haven’t yet. Blue would probably be good.
I love you.
So there you have it. Past Catie is full of wisdom. Who knew?