A Conversation with My Future Self

I sit, alone, in the silence of today,
Wondering where you are, years beyond this moment.
Will your voice still carry the weight of all that I've lived?
Will your eyes hold the same tired truths I carry now?

You—my future self—do you remember
When I stood at the edge of the world,
Scared to leap, but too restless to stay?
Do you recall the nights spent in whispers with regret,
When time was an enemy, and I chased it endlessly?

I ask you,
Did I learn to love the mistakes that broke me?
Did I ever hold the people I hurt with tender hands,
Or did the years teach me the price of every word unspoken?

You smile, but it's a shadow of something more,
And in your eyes, I see fragments of the roads I never took.
Did I ever stop running from the past?
Did I embrace the things I once feared—the choices I made,
The dreams I buried under piles of "what-ifs"?

Do you remember the night I stood alone,
My heart shattered from the love I thought would last forever?
Did I ever let go of that ache,
Or did I carry it with me,
Folded in the corners of who I became?

I want to know,
Did I finally forgive myself for all the roads I didn't walk,
For all the words I never said?
Was there peace in the moments where I stopped pretending
That I had it all figured out?

You, my future self, tell me—
Was it worth it?
The years spent chasing shadows of what could be,
The times I lost myself in the need to prove I mattered?
Or did I finally learn to be enough,
To stop running, to be still?

The silence between us is heavy,
Yet comforting in its stillness.
You, the me I will one day become,
Speak no words, but your presence tells me everything.
The past is a whisper,
And the future, a breath waiting to be exhaled.

Maybe, just maybe,
I'm already becoming you.