Do Not Read Until 2037: A Letter to my Future Self

Well, hello there old geezer!

I hope you’re somewhat sane and still alive 20 years from now so you can fully absorb every word of this letter.

Otherwise, someone will translate it into small, bite-sized pieces so your senile, rickety old mind can understand it. If you’re already dead, a designated survivor will read this letter at your funeral with the proper enunciation and enthusiasm.

Caution: This letter is littered with four letter words. I know you hate profanity; but at the same time, offensive language always gets your f*ckin’ attention, bitch.

I called you ‘old geezer’ because I know it will piss you off.

You thought you were over the hill the day you turned 30. Damn, were you stupid – you were in the prime of your life at 30. You looked great at 40, too. At 50, you thought it was the end of the world. That’s when you began to write your obituary. I hope you’re finally satisfied with your old age in 2037.

Now, when you announce to everyone that you’re an old fart, it’s true. You looked so youthful back in 2017. Everyone thought you were ten years younger. Sadly, you never knew it.

In fact, I remember when you seriously considered plastic surgery! As beautiful as you were, you were never confident in your own skin. You needlessly worried about aging for decades. What a waste of f*ckin’ time.

Since you’re years past the official senior citizen age limit, have you finally learned how to relax and quit spazzing about sh*t you can’t control?

I certainly hope in 2037 you can easily put your feet up, chug a couple of beers, let it all go and say f*ck it. For decades, you’ve spent countless hours fretting about other people’s problems and worrying about what other people thought of you. Sadly, I’m convinced you haven’t changed at all.

Tell me, has needless worrying improved your quality of life?

I guarantee that you’re spazzing out at this very moment – distressed about what I think of you as you read this letter. Based on my experience, needless anxiety can kill you, if you’re not dead already.

Did you listen to your doctor’s guidance back in 2017?

I have no doubt that a regular routine of relaxation techniques and exercise would have improved your health tremendously – both mentally and physically. Unfortunately, you always had an excuse: I’m too busy.

Over the years, I’m certain your sh*tty attitude about your doctor’s orders hasn’t changed either. In fact, I’m certain your philosophy is still the same: there’s always tomorrow.

You should have taken that medical advice old man, decades ago. In 2037, I guarantee your health sucks ass if you’re not already six feet under.

Did you finally man-up and get that tattoo?

Those piercing needles wouldn’t have hurt forever – but you pussied out.

Did you finally suck it up and get on that roller coaster?

No one would have cared if you screamed like a little girl – but you were afraid people would laugh at you.

Did you finally nose-dive in the deep end of the pool and learn how to swim?

You wouldn’t have drowned – you always made sure someone was in the water right by your side. I know, taking so-called dangerous risks were never your thing. Little did you know that none of them would have killed you.

Sadly, however, you missed out on many adventures.

I hope you told your mother how much you loved her before she passed away. For some reason, those words were always difficult for you.

And your kids – did you do everything you could to be the best dad possible? Over the years, you were so quick to throw your own father under the bus.

And your wife – Allison – she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Have you become complacent? Don’t make me travel 20 years into the future to kick your f*ckin’ ass for slacking with your family.

Thankfully, back in 2017, you realized that family is more important than material things. Thankfully, you understood that building a quality family takes time and effort. Unfortunately, there never seemed to be enough time. And effort, well, that took too much effort. I understand – there were always more important things to do.

After all, what’s more, important than making yourself look good on Facebook?

I hope those long hours whoring it up on social media paid off for you in 2037.

I have a lot more to say, but knowing you, I’m sure this letter has already hurt your feelings.

Without a doubt, you’re tearing up or more likely, weeping hysterically. Pussy. But I want you to know that back in 2017, I wasn’t a bad guy. In fact, we both conveniently forget that many people thought I was a pretty cool dude.

I wrote you this letter because I don’t want to become you in 20 years. Instead, I want to age gracefully. I want to learn how to sit back, relax and say f*ck it. I want to get that tattoo. I want to ride that roller coaster. I want to jump head first into the pool. Most of all, I want to spend more quality time with family. I’m ready to do it all.

“We must all suffer from one of two pains. The pain of discipline or the pain of regret. The difference is discipline weighs ounces while regret weighs tons.” [1]

Because I refuse to be you in 20 years, I’d much rather feel the pain of discipline now.
If I were you in 2037, the weight of regret would suffocate me.

Best of luck,
Your Middle-aged Self

[1] Twelve Pillars © 2005 Jim Rohn and Chris Widener

Photo: ©Dave Pasquel All Rights Reserved