Dear Joe (or Jose)
This is your past self. You know remember me, Joe from the
twenty years ago? Yes that’s right, the guy with hair down to his shoulders, earnestly
scribbling on his notebook, casually taking a drag from a cigarette, quietly
sipping a cup of coffee at the corner café in that bohemian borough you once
called home, late in the afternoon, as the dusk clouds slowly drifted overhead.
Remember that guy? Well, I just thought I’d drop you a line to
see how you are doing. You might be tucked away in some quiet neighbourhood in
suburbia right now with the station wagon in the garage, working your ass off
nine-to-five, five days a week at some job that doesn’t pay you enough or
recognise you for your talents.
I told you this would happen. Didn’t I warn you not to go
down that road? Well, well, well, did you heed the advice? Remember the deal we
made back then? You told me to tell you that if this ever happened to you to
remind you to go shoot yourself, right? Well, here I am reminding you of that
conversation…
So what are you waiting for then? During your suicidal days,
didn’t you say you would just stick around for a bit longer to find out if
anything “interesting” would happen…and…well…need I say more?
But now you say that you’ve got “responsibilities”: people
to look after, who are depending on you. For what? To make a living so that
they can go on and have a go, a go at pursuing their dreams, something you never
got around to doing. Oh, god! Excuses, excuses. Truth be told, they’d be much
more content without having to put up with your miserable self!
So, anyway, I gotta go. In about ten to fifteen years, I’ll
check in on you to find out how things turn out. Things better be looking on
the up-and-up, otherwise, we’re gonna have to have this conversation again,
alright? See ya.
Your former self,
Joe from the past