A Letter to My Future Self: From Quiet Strength to Dreams Yet to Bloom
by Deepika Rawat | Arika Quill
Sometimes, life flows like a quiet river — not still, not stormy — just steady. That’s how I feel right now. I’m emotionally okay, stable. Not sad, not overly happy. Just moving… like a line with small waves. But today, I wanted to pause and write something. Not for the world, but for the future me. A letter from this version of me — young, learning, and quietly strong.
💌 Dear Future Me,
Right now, you’re in your early twenties. People say you’re mature beyond your age, and maybe they’re right. Losing Papa early changed a lot in your life. You saw your family struggle, but you never complained. Even as a child, you never forced anyone to get you things. If they brought it, you smiled. If not, you still smiled.
After 12th, without anyone telling you, you started working. Ma never said you had to, but you felt it was right. And today, you're proud of that. You don’t ask for pocket money. Even with a small salary, you try to make sure Ma has her little joys. That’s something to be proud of.
But there’s still one part of you that’s difficult — your anger. Sometimes you say things you don’t mean, and later regret it deeply. That’s one reason you became a bit introverted. You hide your emotions, even the good ones, afraid that the bad might come out. I hope you’ve learned to handle that — with patience and softness.
Your biggest dream? Simple and strong: to give Ma the life she deserves. A life where she never has to think twice before buying anything. She already says, “We have enough — give to those who don’t.” That’s why you want to earn, grow, and share. To be rich — not just in money, but in kindness and values.
I hope you’ve made space for yourself too — to breathe, to grow, to write beautiful blogs, and to talk to Ma daily. She may not talk much with friends, but you’re her world.
🚌 A Small Incident, A Big Reminder
One day in the bus, there was a girl about your age who tried to support you. She saw you standing and wanted you to get a seat — but the way she spoke to an older woman sitting there felt rude. You could have stayed silent. But instead, you smiled and said, “It’s okay. Let her sit.”
Because in that moment, you thought — What if that was my Ma? What if someone asked her to stand like that?
You chose not to take the seat. Not because you didn’t want it, but because kindness mattered more. You had the strength to stand, and she may not. That’s the kind of person I hope you still are.
🌼 What I Wish for You
In 5 or 10 years, I hope you’ve become either a criminal lawyer, or someone with a PhD in English writing your own books. Or maybe both.
I hope you're still humble, still kind, still giving Ma the same love and respect — even when you’re 30, 40, 50.
I hope you’re building a shelter for animals, helping people regularly, and living a life that makes your younger self proud.
And lastly, I hope you still remember this version of you — the one with a calm smile, small dreams, quiet strength, and a loud heart.
No matter where life takes you, don’t lose her.
For the readers who feel deeply and dream quietly,
– Yours truly, Deepika | Arika Quill
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