If it is now years after this letter was written, I would hope more than anything that your disposition didn’t wane under the wind that is ticking time. I hope the aspects you always considered to be timelessly unceasing still stand strong, beneath all of the transmogrifications within and without you.

While you may be pursuing all that you wished, with achievements you've been hoping to grasp with each preceding year, I hope you feel the importance in every one of those actions. In every one of your thoughts- those that appear in bold, then slowly diminish in accent, and then depth, as stronger ones overpower them. I hope that flowers bloom endlessly, both in your mind and in your life. I hope each day you wake up to new adventures. May your inspiration infect everyone around you, just as your compassion should. I hope they appreciate your presence, just as you do everyone else's. And not just say they appreciate it, but really, really appreciate it. Enough to settle all of your burning questions and curiosities, but not enough to put out the fire that is your personality.

I hope you find a healthy balance: one where you depend on yourself, yet still let people in. I hope people can confide in you like they always have, because you know you wouldn't be okay if those around you weren't. Let the happiness around you flow through your veins and light up your eyes and augment your senses. Let it water the garden that your words have planted. Let it wake you each morning with a dose of drive. I hope you feel vitality through your bones.

I hope the colors in your life are as bright as your desire to spur influence. I hope you don't strain your eyes too much searching for the good in this world, because it will give you a migraine. Please remember that the poor actions of those around you are not your fault. Regardless of how much you try, you can't be responsible for the sadness they're drowning in. You are, however, responsible for your own. I hope you're doing well, but mostly? Mostly, I hope you aren't hiding in the shadow of others, because thatwould be a waste of staggering potential, which would come with the bottomless well of what-ifs.