Dear me,
If you’re still here, I hope you enjoyed the ride—the peaks and the valleys, the wins and the nights you thought you couldn’t make it through.
You’re on the final stretch now. Soon you’ll learn the truth of what is—or isn’t—on the other side.
This version of us writing to you lived with a heavy contradiction:
There were moments I wanted to die because life felt unbearable.
And there were moments I wanted to live because I couldn’t stand the thought of losing the people I loved.
Now you’ve lived long enough to see that loss up close.
And now you’re close enough to your own ending to feel it in your bones.
So here’s what I hope is true:
I hope you built something that mattered.
Not to impress people—just to know you tried.
I hope you loved more than you hid.
I hope you forgave yourself quicker.
I hope you learned to rest without guilt.
And I hope you didn’t let fear turn the whole world gray.
If you’re happy, I’m grateful God allowed me to live.
If you’re not, I still hope you can look back and say:
“I didn’t quit. I kept walking.”
Either way… I’m proud we stayed.
With love,
Roberto
Reader question:
If you could write one honest sentence to your 100-year-old self, what would it be?
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