This is a letter that I found this week while cleaning. I wrote it in 7th Grade as a school assignment. Written on the envelope are the words: Do Not Open Until 2008.
May 10, 1988
Hey! How's life? OK here I guess. You might or might not remember me. I'm your 12-year-old self. Well I'm almost 13. Our birthday is next month. I wrote this to you 20 years ago. So how does it feel being old? I bet you're sitting at home laughing at all this. Right now I'm sitting in Homeroom and Mr. Stone is calling role. You remember Mr. Stone, don't you? The weird guy with the mustache.
This is a Probe assignment. I'm supposed to tell the future. I'm also supposed to tell everything about you since I know you so well. Let's see, you probably live somewhere in Atlanta. You work either at a radio station or as an interior decorator. You're still friends with Debbie and Jody and Anna and Jennifer. (I hope) I can't decide whether you're married or not. Probably not. But if you're married to Richie or Troy I'm going to kill you.
I hope you graduated from high school and maybe college. Otherwise I'm doing all this work for nothing. (Ha Ha) Welp I'd better go. Bye.
P.S. Write Back! (Ha Ha)
Obviously, I didn't make it as a radio DJ, which was my big dream in 7th grade. And I think it is fair to say that I do not possess ANY interior decorating skills, although I must have thought so back then. Most likely I was watching too much Designing Women, and imagined myself as Suzanne Sugarbaker or something.
The only accurate predictions on that list were that I graduated high school and college, and that I am still friends with two of the four girls I mentioned. I wonder if the 12 year old me would be impressed with the life I have now: married, living far from Atlanta, driving a minivan full of kids, paying a mortgage and working part-time at a non-glamorous job.
At least I didn't marry Troy or Richie.
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