My Dearest Past Me, 

You dumb bitch. You dumb fucking bitch. You dumb dumb fucking baby bitch. You thought you could have it all couldn’t you? You thought you would have a normal college experience and be able to balance career and social life in a way that was challenging but still beneficial to your mental health? Your biggest worry was walking past Beckman at 1pm on a Wednesday and getting anxiety while trying to not make eye contact with the Fiji that’s seen you naked. In a year, you would KILL to stare intensely at your phone while you walk by someone you have slept with. 

You’re pretty sure that this will just be “an extended Spring Break staycation.” You’ve ordered some athleisure that you plan to lounge in comfortably in your on-campus housing that you will definitely be allowed to stay in. You are a cunt. You are clueless. You have no idea what the phrase “remote instruction” means. 

Well guess what you shitty, shallow excuse for a human being? It has been ONE YEAR. Your “I’m going to do a juice cleanse” phase? Your “I’m writing a book” phase? Your “I’m going to be in a really weird long distance relationship type thing” phase? For WHAT? For what, bitch. You are still in your room, still telling your friends “Once things get better we can…” SHUT UP. It will never get better. This is life now. There are no good weeks any more— your week was either fine or the worst one of your life. Your depression is worse than when you wanted to kill yourself when you were 15. Why the fuck did you want to kill yourself THEN? You were just in a 21 Pilots phase. Life is a million times worse now, you stupid piece of garbage. Also, you’re ugly.

Love, 

Current Timeline Me