Dear me,
“You absolute dumbass—remember when you thought life was hard at 15? Ha ha ha. Let’s talk.”
These are the opening lines to a letter I wrote to myself.
Turns out, I’m not the only one who writes letters to myself.
Many authors and filmmakers have embraced the concept of “letters to myself from the end of the world.”
They’ve written letters as a reflective journey through faith, resilience, wisdom, and the kind of soul-searching that either leads to enlightenment or an emotional meltdown in the shower.
These letters often reference significant events—the bombing of Hiroshima, the 2020 pandemic, or rediscovering faith amidst hopelessness.
However, my approach? A little less poetic and a lot more “WTF were you thinking?”
Because when I write letters to myself, it’s part self-therapy, part roast session, and part survival tactic.
Why I Started Writing Letters to Myself (And Never Stopped)
I was inspired to write letters to myself, but with an unfiltered, sarcastic, and dramatically over-caffeinated twist.
As I jot down my thoughts, I:
Roast my past self -Oh, you pea-brain, you really thought that was a good decision?
Hype up my future self -Go get that bag, queen. Also, have you stopped overthinking yet?
Attempt to make sense of life’s jump-scares – Why do I still not know what I’m doing with my life?
Sometimes it’s a gentle hug.
Sometimes it’s a blunt pep talk with a side of reality check…
and possibly a self-inflicted eye-roll.
Believe it or not—
There’s something both ridiculous and profound about writing letters to yourself. You time travel while kissing your younger self as well as whopping their posteriors.
You spill your heart out, thinking you’re all wise and reflective, only to find a letter years later that makes you wish that may the floor split open and consume you.
Yet, it doesn’t deter me.
I reach for a pen and scribble on paper whenever I feel happy, sad, glad, or simply bad, carefully choosing each word to capture my emotions, the most embarrassing ones too.
The First Letter: A Leap into the Past
When did I write the first letter to myself?
Ah, 15-year-old me, hopelessly crushing on someone, pouring out my teenage soul onto paper—an electrifying feeling that could make nuns drop their virgin jaws!
And that’s exactly what it did to the sisters at my Christian missionary school.
My love-soaked letter ended up in the wrong hands. And by wrong hands, I mean high school authority figures, who promptly reminded me that feelings were illegal under some unspoken medieval rulebook. God wasn’t teaching that kind of love, after all.
That should have deterred me from pouring my feelings into letters—but only for a wee bit of time.
I realized I didn’t want to miss the joy of capturing life’s moments—the mess, the magic, and the mayhem—by making the pen kiss the paper.
Fast forward, and I’m still writing. Sometimes it’s deep, sometimes hilariously mundane.
Like the one where I ranted about my laundry routine, scrubbing my body, and the tragic fate of my undergarments. A masterpiece, really.
One of them read-
“Bitch, you SWORE you’d never get a job that glues you to a chair.
So tell me, how do you write now?
Walking around?”
Fair point, past me.
Fair point. I am glued to my chair!
I chose to be a fudging writer.
Why Letters? Because Therapy is Expensive
Writing to myself is therapy. A reality check. A survival tactic. I’ve done it through heartbreaks, failures, and existential meltdowns. And guess what? It works.
- When I got yanked out of the routine I knew all my life at 15. It worked then.
- When I stared down a bottle of antidepressants at 32. It worked then.
- When I realized I did not want to stay in a foreign country. It worked then.
Those letters didn’t coddle me. They didn’t whisper sweet nothings like “stay positive” or “manifest your best life.”
Nope. They were brutally honest. Like this—
“Bitch, NO! You are not depressed.
You are stressed.
The world will always make you feel like you’re not doing enough.
Either you look out for yourself, or it’s the end of the world for you.”
Because sometimes, we don’t need a hug. We need a verbal slap from ourselves.
An Avid Reader’s Journey to Writing (and Roasting)
Writing saved me—but reading? Reading shaped me.
It’s no surprise that books have been my fuel, my blueprint, my chaos translator.
They’ve shaped my writing, my sarcasm, and my ability to call out nonsense.
Books have given me more wisdom than half the adults I was forced to listen to growing up.
And writing? Writing was my way of using that freedom those books showed me.
Hope is a Cockroach—Annoying, but Hard to Kill
Every time life kicked me down, I wrote my way through it. Even if it was just a list of all the ridiculous things I was surviving.
And if I had to send a letter to past-Suman, I know exactly what I’d say:
“Bitch, do not depend on anyone for finances.
Take care of your money like you take care of your skincare routine—religiously and without fail.”
“Have gratitude, but do not be blinded by it.”
“Perfect people do not exist.”
“Great things do not happen overnight.”
“Family doesn’t mean no boundaries.”
And just for good measure, I’d add:
“Girl, focus on one thing and do it repeatedly. Till your fingers tire, take a break, and go back to it again.”
Navigating Life’s Challenges: A Letter to My Future Self
Writing a letter to your future self is like sending a message in a bottle—except the only one picking it up is you.
It’s been my secret weapon for navigating life’s confusions, way to laugh at past fears, celebrate my successes, and remind myself that I always pull through.
Sometimes, these letters are pep talks. Sometimes a host, inviting me to reflect on my progress.
Sometimes cross-examining lawyers doing brutal reality checks. But they always prove one thing—I survived, I grew, and I’m still here.
So, future me, keep writing. These letters aren’t just words; they’re proof that you’ve made it through worse.
Want to write to your future self? Try FutureMe—because sometimes, we all need a reminder that we’re doing better than we think.
How to Be a Work in Progress Without Losing Your Mind
Let’s get one thing straight—you will never have your shit together. No one does. And anyone who claims otherwise is either lying or delusional.
The superpower is letting yourself be.It is another way of self-love.
- Made a bad decision? Great. That’s experience.
- Still figuring things out? Congrats, so is everyone.
- Cringe at your past self? Good. That means you grew.
- Self-doubt creeping in? Tell it to sit down and shut up—you’ve got things to do.
Handle it like you handle a teenager’s ridiculously ripped jeans—see it, shake your head, and ignore it.
Because at the end of the day, your quirks, failures, and awkward moments make you, well, you. And honestly? That’s pretty badass.
Crafting Letters: A Guide for Future You
If you want to start writing letters to yourself, here’s the secret: Don’t overthink it. Just start, and trust that these letters will bring you clarity, perspective, and maybe even a little self-love.
Write like you talk. Be messy. Be honest. Be hilarious.
And most importantly—roast yourself a little.
- To your 16-year-old self: “Just so you know, this too shall pass.”
- To your 80-year-old self: “Bitch, you made it! Finally!”
Final Thoughts
If the world ended tomorrow, what would you say to yourself?
Would you remind yourself of everything you survived?
Would you laugh at your over-the-top worries?
Would you be glad you spent your days documenting your confusions, dreaming big, and talking to yourself like a friend?
Or would you just write:
Well, that was fun while it lasted.
Either way—write the letter. Find any reason.
Stop planning! Start writing.
Speaking of letters… I also wrote one to my younger self. If you’re curious about what I’d tell past-me (hint: lots of roasting and life lessons), read it here: Letter to My Younger Self
Your thoughts are always vibrant and filled with positivity that inspired me