A letter to myself.

Hi Ayomide.

I am typing this on a typewriter as gloominess overwhelms me and my hands punch the keys vehemently. This is the third time that I am changing the paper for I made irredeemable errors in the previous letters. Hopefully, this would be my last. I intend to pass this message to you so as to fill you in on the happenings in your drab life. I would normally send you an email, but I’m sure you have none or most probably have not the slightest idea what that is. Soon enough, you will find out about it.

I sincerely hope you do not go haywire when you get to read this message. I am tempted to tell you all about the future and the kind of man that you have grown up to be, but I do not want to freak or bore you out with the details of the lackluster life that you solely currently lead.

Oops, I already did.

However, I will hint you on certain things. I have written this far to realize that I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Ayomide. I am you from the future. This is the kind of man that you have become. A clumsy one.

I have no idea how this letter will be delivered to you. I believe that it will.

I am sorry that I happen not to be a man of honor. I have tried to be, really. I am not. I am supposed to be a university graduate, but I am like an omelette that refused to undergo all the frying rites. I just took a deep sigh because I realized that the reference I just made might be a tad difficult for you to comprehend. I am hanging in between school and the entrepreneurial life. You excelled in your studies back in secondary school. You were not big on grades, but people saw you as a genius. You are extremely nonchalant about what people think of you. Nothing excites you as much as football does. I guess your passion for it has arisen. (If not, be expectant of it). You intend to become a professional footballer. As I write this currently I’m sorry to inform you that you haven’t surpassed the street football level yet. Although, you still nurse the dreams of becoming one. I believe in you. I believe in me. Your parents anticipate your success. You have disappointed them by not graduating at the appropriate and expected time. They have refused to give up on you because they believe in you as well. You have an aversion towards university because you believe it is hindering your plans to becoming a successful writer. Sometimes you believe that you haven’t matured to that stage where you can tag yourself a writer. You write, yes, but you do not believe you are a writer yet. You haven’t published anything. You have a lot of uncompleted prose on your laptop. You do not participate in writing competitions because you believe that they are not meant for you. You opted for the sciences, but eventually realized that you have a penchant for the arts. In fact, you were admitted into the University of Lagos to study Mathematics. You do not know the basics of literature. Your passion for writing evoked when you realized that there lay an untold story in the deepest chambers of your mind.

You are scattered everywhere and your life is not in order, but you earnestly hope to have things going well for you. You will not give up on yourself. You do not have a concept of the mechanism employed in giving up.

I seem to have spilled more than I intended to. This letter might puzzle you a bit, but I know you will smile as you pass through these stages and remember this letter. I know you look forward to a better future (than this that I have painted for you). I do also. Strangely, I expect to receive a letter from my future self as well.

untethered. let the wings of freedom take me to an unknown destination faraway from here.

untethered. let the wings of freedom take me to an unknown destination faraway from here.