Dear Future Self.

50 years
Written: November 2009, Deliver: November 2059
Subject: What if
Dear Future Self,
When you get this I hope you are sitting down. This is Angie Wong writing to you from 2009. futuris.tk, a site created by futuristic postal workers will send messages up to 50 years in the future or at post-morterm, has delivered this email to you because I asked it to or because I died.
It’s the last days of 2009, and I’m having a bit of a reflection period looking backward and forward. This year has aged me, maybe by 50 years. As for the future, it never occurred to think so far ahead. Never was much of a planner, your former self.
I haven't thought about what the future me will look like since I was strapped to a chair for a tattoo at 18. I wonder what kind of person you’ve become. Do you remember the ones you’ve obsessed about or did time heal all? Did you marry for love, convenience or just to see what married life was all about? Have you spawned? Are you still climbing every mountain, swimming every ocean, crossing every desert? Who is making you do that? What's his name? Have you lived up to your potential like you had promised or have you forgotten what those were? Are you still a trouble maker? I hope you are doing exactly what you were doing 50 years ago, but maybe with a bit more grace. ; )

Here’s a slice of your past blissful and glorious life:
On Sunday Dave and I sat in a coffee shop to take in the weekend papers. I dived immediately for the soft core news and read about restaurants abroad while he went for the review and sports pages. I gave death eyes to the writer whose column I used to love reading as I had just discovered his words are paid for by advertisers. This was my only diet of current affairs as during the busy work week I have no time to collect thoughts about the state of the world today sadly.
At the back of FT's How to spend it magazine, I was staring at an advert, this season’s Tiffany's sell featuring the back of a well groomed man holding that internationally recognizable blue box, eagerly awaiting the door to open, and his answer. "You like that ad, don’t you?" Dave lowered his paper to ask. "It calls to me," I responded. He kissed my shoulder and we shared a fuzzy feeling. As we laid head to head all I could think of was how this moment was sponsored by Tiffany’s.
This angst is the reason why I’m banging away on my keyboard as we speak.
So many of life’s big moments are sponsored by brands now I don’t know if I naturally feel this emotion or if it was thought up by a really smart person from Madison Avenue. My worry for the future years is whether this life is actual or manufactured.
So what kind of life did it turn out to be Angie Wong? Did you follow in the Mercedes Benz life, or were you more the Volvo type? Burberry or Tom Ford? iPhone or Vertu? Boffi or XXX? Tiffany’s or Cartier’s? I feel a violent reaction coming on. If you can honestly say none of the above, then I am proud of you.



I hope you’ve read the books you wanted, and travelled to the places you’ve wanted, because, from where I’m standing, seeing the world, experiencing first hand experiences, and coming to your own conclusions through reading and listening may be the only chance we get to be a real, actual person with real, actual thoughts.
In closing, there are a few things you need to know, or rather be reminded of: Those lump bits, that's from eating straight pork fat in your youth. And all those obsessive tendencies turned out to be a good thing didn't it? Turns out you didn't need all those shoes, did you? Future Me, I hope I didn't forget what's their names. I hope we're all still on speaking terms.


Wish you were here. At 32. Loving life .
Me.

This romantic moment was sponsored by.. Tiffany’s.