Dear future,
It’s weird to think that you are me (I am you) Living in some other City, (hopefully) in some other house.
Its weird to think that you live a different life compared to mine and I hope you’re happy.
Its weird to think how you are dreaming and wishing like me, but probably for different things.
It’s weird to how you’re all grown up while I’m just me- here sitting, doing the same old routine.
Or maybe be it’s not weird at all.
Love, Me