A letter from April 2nd, 2020

Dear FutureMe, 25 today. Precisely 2.15 hours ago. I thought 21 was bad but boy was I in for a surprise with this one. Divorced as of 2 weeks ago after a difficult 5 months of marriage. It was lovr at first sight. It ended just as quick. The only message I get is from my ex husband. I'm over it but he isn't. I just tell myself I am over and I'm sure I will be in no time. Now that I'm gone he promises me the world with its moon and stars, but I'm stubborn and hurt and my final word is no more. I loved him like in the movies until that day I saw those verification texts. I felt numb. He was the crush that crushed. Nothing was ever the same. Friendless. I pushed people away because this marriage was so emotionally consuming and because I'm me, but I guess they weren't good friends anyways. Who forgets a friend's 25th? Or are we all just too old to make a big deal out of it. Corona is looming and claiming the lives of even innocent 13 year olds. I am praying to God that we stay safe; my mum especially. I need her right now. She's been amazing with everything, our relationship has really become something else. I realised it all needed to come crashing down for us to rebuild. It's been 3 years and I couldn't be happier to finally have a mother I truly love. Thank you God. Weed. I can't break thi's addiction. I slowed down incredibly from 4 years ago. I can go days and weeks without now, I even stopped for a while, but it's always on the back of my mind. It's moreso the dependence or reliance, knowing that something is there to make it better if it hurts too much. But it's fucking with my mental. I somehow fear I'll be addicted to this forever. I don't know how to stop, or rather want to. Life is taking a really hard turn, currently jobless due to moving and moving after the marriage and subsequent divorce. To be honest I was never the type to hold down a job, always had issues committing. I was never happy. But how could I be? I let myself down at university and now I'm paying the price. I dream big but my work ethic is my biggest downfall. And yet I'm willing to do nothing about it and try to find ways to blame bipolar for it. It's not even a confirmed diagnosis, it just makes sense in my lazy wrecked head. If I'm alive and reading this God willing, I just want myself (you/me of the future ) to know that whatever hardships I think I'm facing at that point, that I got through today. And today was fucking hard. And I will have to if I wake up corona free get through tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, to get to that point. Rebuilding or just building a person I can be proud of. Coming back to myself. Being who I truly see in my minds eye. I can do it, and I don't need to wait for anyone to tell me anymore, I know I can. I will give time to time and heal and be better. I will. God willing.