Namaste,

If you're reading this, then it worked, but that isn't important. There are some things you need to know. I am you. We died like we were supposed to at 58 but we were brought back and saved. We're now 88 and going to die again in less than a day, no come-backs this time. The infinite infinities is important, and why I chose now to write this all down in our unfinished black-book. I hope our code hasn't evolved too much to understand but I'm only writing it once, so pay attention. This message probably wont survive the time-rift for long.

Things will get worse before they get better, but you are a candle shining in the darkness. There aren't many like you so, it's important to believe in yourself and not be afraid to lead others with your light. You have a unique ability to see alternate perspectives, and this is the key to your success. Don't ever lose it. It's important. You will never really know how many lives you've affected, but know that it's largely been positive, and we have no regrets.

You may find your emotional nature a burden now, but it will serve you well in your near future. The world doesn't stop evolving toward conformed logic's, and it's only the emotional ones who feel past it. Those emotions, and your ability to express them, is what helps the others wake-up to the growing atrocities. You will find friends in those you help awaken, and in others like you so, have faith that loneliness is only a symptom of lessons you have to learn on your own to better understand those you will cross in your future.

I explain that so you'll understand why we've gotten thirty extra years. You will only remember reading this when you come back from your first death. Because in these last thirty years, you have to be an advocate. You will be gifted with the ability to know who needs it, and you must be ready to speak for them. These individuals are as important as you are, and by then, you'll understand it. There's a reason you have your experiences so, take note of them, and share them with those who will listen. You're not alone in this pivot of change, but you must work as diligently as your counter-parts. Don't be afraid. We're at peace in the end.

-M.E.

I love how much of a bitch you are right now.

Something you need to know immediately: you’re not special. Stop thinking you’re above everyone, you pretentious shit. Being different is great, but you’re trying too hard.

I know you like making life hard, and you say you enjoy stress, but those things come out of your mouth because you were spoon fed since birth. Wait a few more years, shits about to get real. You’ll be addicted to crying (the part where you quietly sniffle towards the end is your favorite), suicide becomes an option ( your 2nd attempt is the funniest), but when you come across the secret to living a decent life, you’ll be fine.

A few things:

Stop buying lottery tickets; you have a better chance of dying choking on your breakfast.

You’re in a relationship, right? She cheats on you, bud.

Stop being so nosy. Peoples lives are boring, just like yours.

Apologize for the shit you’ve done, even if you don’t want to. Stop your addictions now, even if you don’t think its possible. And tell your dad you love him before he’s gone, even if you don’t understand it.

Live longer than me, punk.

Dear me,

It’s me. Yeah, you. We’re the same person; one in the same, for all eternity, and we always will be.

I just found out we’re dying in a day, so I thought I’d leave you some 88-year-old advice to find... Hopefully find, that is.

Here goes.

1. Appreciate your life. Stop hating it. It really will get better, but with time. It’s like wine. Take a sip of your life and love it like a nice aged bottle of merlot or something. You’ll find this out soon, hopefully, and when you do you’ll find a way to love everything handed to you even more than you did before.

2. Start trying in school. You’ve got two years of high school left, so make them count. Stop slacking off and thinking you’ll do fine if you don’t study. Start studying and start keeping track of your assignments. College will be hell on earth without this skill.

3. Start raising money now! If you start raising money now, at 16, you’ll likely gather how much you need to get that damned novel published by the end of senior year, which was your goal. Get your job, and save a portion of the paycheck each time you get it. Put it into a banking account, and don’t touch the account until you’re 18!

4. Keep writing. If you stop now, you’ll never achieve your goals, and that’s a crappy thing to bestow unto yourself.

5. Keep your mind open. There’s always a new possibility or a new way of doing something, you just haven’t found it yet.

6. STOP MAKING LISTS!

Good luck. I’m not going to tell you what age I am now. That’s up to you to figure out.

Again, good luck.

Dear Me of the Past,

I know that you don't want to hear it, but it will get better. I promise (trust me, I'm a pretty damn good source of this information). There are ups and downs, but that's to be expected. There's no way you can actually believe that there won't be ups and downs—I know you don't believe that (and I am one-hundred percent sure I know because I'm a damn good source for this information).

Although there is quite a lot of information I behold that you probably are begging to know, I won't spoil it. I won't spoil the surprises you are to come upon in life because if I do, then they won't be surprised—they'll just be expected and you'll over prepare for it (and I know you would over prepare whether you want to admit it or not). For example, if I told you who would propose to you and when, you would plan out, as best as possible, exactly what you'll wear, what you'll do, how much makeup you'll put on. It'd be to planned and not special enough.

I know, I know; I haven't told you shit. But I wasn't planning on telling you anything.

Love,

You of the Future

P.S. People are unappreciative assholes. Don't pay attention to them.

Hey, Bails! It's me, you. Yeah, I know. You're probably pretty confused. I know I'd be if I were you, which I am, so you must be. Anyway, enough of that madness.

Today, I'm going to die.

Well, twenty-four hours from now, if you're going to be technical, but "today" sounded so much more halting.

As I was saying, I am near then end. I have lived long and loved deeply, and I have come to my closing. Time travel has become available, however, and I wanted to give you a little shout-out before I said goodbye to our reighn of terror.

The reason I keep saying that I'm dying rather than we're dying, is because you are not in fact. Time has proved to be infinite, accessible, and reusable, so even as I am dying now in this time, we'll always exist somewhere in the loop. Besides, if my timing was correct, you just got out of the hospital from a kidney infection. You graduated less than a week ago from high school and basically, even though you feel like dog-crap right now, your life is just beginning. You have college starting in the fall, and after that... Nah. I'm not telling you shit. You're just gonna have to wait and see. Obviously, I can tell you vague, annoying stuff like "There will be ups and downs" and "you'll write a lot of things" but I'm not spoiling anything substantial. You probably expected that, though; You are me, after all.

So I'll just tease you with these questions that could easily hint either way:

Are you still dating David? Why?

Have you published anything new lately?

What do you want to name your kids, if you have them?

Still want to be an English Education major?

Bahahaha. That'll irritate the hell out of you.

So why did I contact you from the future?

That's easy.

Because I could.

Cheers, little me! You probably want to kill yourself right now, and by yourself I mean myself, and by myself I mean your future self.

Now I'm really just messing with ya.

One word of advice, though; don't stop being you... Or us... Or me. I'm pretty cool, anyway.

See ya in no time!

-B

Ps. Do people still call you Bails? Hehe

Dear younger Brian,

Your wasting your time being nice. Consider stealing someone's identity and move to a non extradition country where people don't use computers very much. I know you have principles but frankly it never gets much better. You have good moments and lousy moments and you probably want some tips to navigate rough waters.

Fiber, for the love of pete kid eat some fiber before it becomes mandatory.

Invest in meat before 2023 because the vegans force that stuff to become an underground black market situation and you'll clean up selling hotdogs to angry non-smokers.

I'd say move to another country but after 2020 they are all basically France.

Buy a shotgun.

Buy a few shotguns, because you lose the first shotgun in a game of high stakes bolgna poker.

Don't call your grandson a wuss, he ends up paying for your nursing home and the orderlies here have cold hands.

Make friends with that crazy neighbor up the road who makes furniture out of old pallet wood. He ends up doing pretty well once they legalize weed.

Toss out your inventions notebook and start drawing up plans for an enormous inflatable woman, because that catches on for some reason in 2038. Make sure she's wearing a burka and can apologize to passers by.

Lottery numbers July 12th (I think) 12,22,32,44,14, and 6. If those don't win the mega then move to Mexico because they're about to have a revolution and the next silicon valley pops up in Guadalajara shortly after.

Future gadgets to watch out for...

After drones become mainstream the crotch-wiring age begins, apparently to get tax breaks you have to let the government watch you do pretty much everything until 2041 when they realize we're all pretty boring.

I'll end this here, President Bieber was just shot. Third time this week!

Stay warm!

~ Brian

There's so much you were longing for, and yet it was right there in arm's reach. I could tell you of things to come, maybe even some safe bets and the winning lottery numbers, but then would I be here? I've lived a long time, and the happiness you thought so foreign and distant, is just around the corner. Continue your patient but willful ways, and you'll be all right.

There is one thing I want you to do for me though, since I spent most nights thinking of this before falling asleep. Take all of your hate, fear, and sadness, and turn it into fuel. For every shouting match, tears soaked into your cheeks, and worries you've had, focus all that energy wasted into the things you love. Your writing, your job, your dog, and your friends. In the end, the only thing you'll have left to talk about at the senior league at the bowling alley on a Thursday morning is how much you miss all things you cannot do because of your mortal frailty.

I hope this letter has reached you in time. Otherwise, it will have been lost to the never ending continuation that is the place where things go when they're too late.

Signed,

Yourself, but a little smarter.

Dear me,

dear myself,

dear I,

or anyone else,

Yesterday I turned five, each candle, one year.

Every auntie and uncle; all I loved? Gathered here.

“Happy birthday to me!” I thought with a laugh,

Then suddenly it hit me; so I figured I’d ask:

“What’s happiness, Grandpa?” I asked simple and curt.

“Well happiness? That’s easy,” kissed my forehead and smirked.

“Happiness,” he replied, “comes from what you give to others!

Be it family, or friends, or just a smile on your mother!

To be happy is easy; all you really have to do

is give happiness to others, and it’ll come back to you.”

Dear me,

dear myself,

am I really dear

to anyone else?

Yesterday I turned eighteen—finally a man—

no family at this party; only whiskey laid our plans.

Shot after shot burned its way through my chest;

when suddenly it hit me: why not lay this to rest?

“What’s happiness, really?” I spat to my friend.

“Happiness? That’s easy!” slurring hard as he yelled:

“Happiness is the moment; living life hard and fast.

It’s numbing what sucks with whatever will last!

Cigarettes and whiskey, they both work fine for me,

I’m alive and still smiling, happy, as can be!”

Dear me,

fuck yourself,

dear only to I

and no one else,

Yesterday I turned forty, one ex-wife and two kids.

Divorces trump birthdays, smiles, and gifts.

I sighed as I slumped in that heavy court chair,

I still had no answer; wasn’t sure why I cared.

“What’s happiness? Please; I just want the truth!”

I stammered to her, knowing no one else in the room.

“Happiness? Hah! You’re one naive fuck!

There is no such thing!” sneered my own Lady Luck.

“You’re born, then you live for a bit ’till you die!

That’s the sad truth; happiness? What a lie.”

Dearest me?

go fuck yourself.

I just wish I were dear

to anyone else.

Well, I turned eighty-eight today, as the rain sung to me,

out of tune—soft and thin—but it was music; it was free.

Part rapture, part moments, it bled beauty in small bits.

Each piece of each person, each lesson a puzzle unfit.

Dear me,

dear myself,

dear I,

dear no one else,

“Happiness, isn’t karma, nor smiles, nor a hug,

nor cynicism, nor whiskey, nor lying, nor drugs.

It’s catharsis, it’s truth, it’s to truly be free!”

Then the gun dropped and lay,

as did I—

happily.

Dear Adolescent Me,

It’s me, a.k.a. eighty-eight-year-old you. As of right now, I have twenty-four hours to live, meaning I don’t have time for you to ramble about how it isn’t possible to write to your past self. So listen, please.

What do you expect from this letter? Lottery numbers? Explanations of wonderful new technology? The name of the college you went to and the type of degree that you may or may not have received?

Or do you think I’ll tell you that you grew up to be a beautiful woman with a happy family and that satisfactory job that you’ve always wanted? No, you don’t expect that. And you’re right. It didn’t all go to plan.

Now, let’s talk about the ‘plan’. As of right now, you don’t really have one, do you? Don’t lie; I’m you, you’re me, and I know you. But ironically enough, you don’t really know me, and I suppose that’s the whole point of this letter—for me to tell you about me. That is, for me to tell you about you.

Well, here’s all you really have to know: life went on. It didn’t exactly get 100% better, but it went on. That small worry you have right now, whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. Not in the long run, anyway. Life goes on, even if that’s not what you want to hear from anyone, least of all from yourself.

Oh, and by the way, school doesn’t fit under the umbrella of ‘small worries that don’t matter’. Finish your goddamn homework already.

Best wishes,

You

Bonjour,

I had 24 hours to live when I started writing this, but I'm down to 22 now and there are a few things I want to say to you before I'm executed... we're executed. I've sat here a while trying to think how to write this to you, how to make you believe and know without a doubt it's me writing this. By me, I mean you, 59 years in the future, like always, burning time with thought. "Where's your head at-at-at-at? Where's your head-at? Where's your head at?"

Even now you ask yourself that question in the obnoxious sing-song manner you have since you heard the song-- a song we still can't remember the name of, but that's hardly important and never was.

I could tell you what to do and say to avoid being in this tiny box we're in now-- smelling of rusty metal, egg-water and death, waiting to be publicly slain to make a point, but I wont; because down the line, you're still who you've always been and we LOVE using our talents to help those who can't or don't know how to help themselves. Too, we love fighting against a profit society so there's no point in trying to dissuade you or change you in that regard. Besides, we make one hell of a martyr, even if the "authorities" don't see it that way.

I digress. Most important advice I wish to give you is to blue-hand it. Sure we're great planners, but we thrive on the edge of our seat in the heat of the mess, making it up as we go along. I believe the world will get better yet, though we knew it would get worse first. All the strife you've been through up to this point in your life, it's been the sharpening stone to hone your edges-- to help you cut through what's to come with a confidence and intensity that will rattle armies.

Not with violence, but the way you can inspire the masses and motivate change through demonstration so artistically and analytically cultivated it's almost mind-blowing. "To bring peace, you must first understand violence, as to learn to see the signs and thus conclude the best way to diffuse or redirect the intent before the execution." and you do, for this you will be hated and loved almost equally by every variety of people. It will weigh on you as long as you let it, but remember you were born with a good heart and sharp mind for a reason.

The People's Revolution is coming, and many will die, but new life is on the horizon. Blue-hand it, and the people will prevail.

Us.