An Open Letter of Self-Love and Encouragement
Minor Spoilers for Squid Game S3 and The Bear S4
Dear Me,
Hi.
You obviously know who I am, but I should clarify the point in time I’m writing from.
I am you—ten years from now. The year is 2035. You’re just barely “over the hill”, and you’re still alive. You are happy, healthy, and still surrounded by the love and support of your family and friends.
I wish I had written to you earlier. I know that during our early adolescent life, we went through some challenges—hardships that nearly broke us physically and mentally. Now that you’re in your 30s, the obstacles have changed. Some feel familiar; others are completely alien. And yet, here we are—once again, on the other side. You are probably still recovering or getting ready to repeat the cycle, but don’t worry, you will ultimately make it.
Now for the meat and potatoes of why I’m writing - I know we have been going through it these past few years. The darkness from the world around us, and significant events in our lives, have felt suffocating - the feeling as if you’re drowning in it, consumed by it, and have to resort to living life day to day to even make it through. Truthfully? I don’t blame you. It seems that 2015-2025 has been tumultuous, and having looked back on our life from that time, it’s truly a miracle that we are still here, which I am ever grateful for.
I can't help myself—I’ve got to throw in some film and TV analogies. No matter our age, there's something timeless about learning life lessons through the stories we see on screen. We once said our goal was to inspire others through storytelling, and when we need a reminder of why we started? We go back to what’s always inspired us.
Even now, I know I shouldn’t spoil anything (yes, people in the future will inevitably still get mad at spoiling TV shows), as Squid Game season three and The Bear season four prove, some themes are just timeless. No matter how gritty the narrative, they reflect real life in ways that never stop resonating. Recently, I’ve been stuck on that final line from the protagonist in Squid Game S3:
“We are not horses. We are human. Humans are…”
A powerful line—spoken by someone who gave up everything in the Squid Game for people he barely knew. We could spend all day delving into the themes of the show and how each of these words mirror our reality, but then this letter would not end. A comment that I bet you saw from someone who watched this episode at the time of its release talks about the importance of the spoken words itself, but also the words and power within the unspoken ellipsis. To me, it signifies that humans are more than mere descriptors, hence why the ellipsis is there. We are more than mere words and descriptions - we are our choices, feelings and unlimited potentials.
Regardless of what choices we have made in life (or in my case, the ones I have yet to make), what he said—or rather, what he left unsaid—still matters. No matter what darkness we’re facing, or what events are shaping your present (and shaped your past), remember this: we are human. We are not robots. We are not AI—though, even from my view, I can’t even predict where that’s heading. We are not perfect, but we are perfectly imperfect. Our emotions and our connections with others make us uniquely human. Each of our lived experiences is one-of-a-kind and helps shape us into who we are today.
As for The Bear season four—one message that stuck with me is the importance of learning when to let go of something you have worked towards to pursue what you truly love. I have a feeling you’ve started to realize this, but it deserves to be said again: the path you were on—your pipe dream you're pursuing—might be costing you more of yourself than you intended. In my self-reflection, it seemed that we had to make sacrifices financially, physically, mentally or emotionally (or all of the above). Let me assure you, in the long run, it’s not worth it. I have slowly learned to accept that my original path was not meant for me, regardless of how much I resisted that fate, and that’s okay. Whether it’s today, tomorrow, ten years from now—or even longer—sometimes letting go is more healing than harmful. I stumbled upon the letter you wrote to your past self in the days of Los Angeles. Though that chapter has faded into the rearview, its truth still lingers in the present. Don’t worry - those words will only stay between us.
Coming from a perspective that you may not be aware of yet, you are allowed to diverge from your original intended path and forge a new path. It seems that you are already doing so, which is great. Even though I cannot tell you what the future holds, I can assure you that you ultimately made the right decision. You’re not behind. You’re not broken. You are ever living - you are imperfectly perfect. You are human. No one else can tell you otherwise or make you feel guilty of this.
In closing, consider this: No matter where life takes you in the next ten years, just remember: I’m waiting for you on the other side. I may not be exactly the version of me that you’re hearing from today—but I am here.
Keep going, my friend. I am so proud of you and look forward to seeing what you become, whether it be me now or a better version - I cannot wait.
Sincerely,
