Dear Future Self,

I suppose you are more acquainted with me than I am with you. We may not even have that much in common, for all I know. After all, my Self on page 15 of my life was different than my Self on page 20 or 27. But even so, I still think I know you, and know some of the things that make you stumble. Roadblocks. Molehills. Gopher holes. Whatever you want to call them. And there’s one thing in particular that I would be willing to bet still trips you up sometimes.

Waiting.

Waiting for the right time.

Waiting for a golden ticket.

Waiting for things to turn out how you want them to.

Waiting for.

Patience is nice, and looking to the future is beautiful, but there’s a difference between that and just…waiting. The feeling that you’re in a state of permanent limbo because you’re always moving the goal post.

You’ll be happy when…you’ll accomplish this when…you’ll get serious about this when…

And then when came along, and you forgot the promise you made, and you went back to where you started.

You’ll be happy when…you’ll accomplish this when…you’ll get serious about this when…

Like a never-ending merry-go-round. Or a twisted kind of race where you know the finish line, but you keep lying to yourself about where the starting line is or was until you don’t know if you’ve started or finished or where you are or how far you’ve gone.

You’ll be happy when…you’ll accomplish this when…you’ll get serious about this when…

But guess what? The Book of Your Life has already started, and if you keep turning pages, waiting for when it gets really good, you may reach the last chapter and find that you missed the good stuff because you were too impatient to turn the next page.

As much as you’d love to know what pages 30 or 60 or 72 hold, trying to speedread your life maybe isn’t the greatest idea.

 

Sincerely, your present Self,