It’s 2 am. I am reading one of my writing pieces called “My Dream Life.”
Reading that piece makes me emotional. I am already jealous of that content, satisfied Priya living her best life in her thirties with family, friends, and writing.
She has no regrets, maybe she won’t have any regrets if she dies because she has done almost everything she dreamt of. I love her so much. She is my inspiration. It’s weird because that’s just a future me that too in a dream.
I want to love my older self and forgive her because maybe she didn’t know any better, maybe she didn’t do it intentionally, maybe she didn’t understand.
I know my past self from 5 years ago will be surprised to see me. She didn’t know that she could survive the heartbreak, but she did. She didn’t know she would work in different sectors without experience, but she did. She didn’t know that she would meet amazing people. She didn’t know that she would love writing so much.
Maybe my future self is thinking the same watching this 2 am version of mine.
“Girl, you don’t know what you are going to do. You are going to do amazing things, meet great people, and work with them. People would love your work. You will make your own identity, a home, a work, everything.
Hang in there, darling.”