Dear Me,

Everywhere you look on the internet, there’s some wab writing a letter to the younger version of themselves. Which is pointless because everything happens for a reason and there’s nowt much you can do to change it. The only thing you can alter is your future.

Here’s what you should be proud of yourself for:

  • Pelvic strength. If you’ve reached seventy without your pelvic muscles giving way, then well done. That’s a remarkable achievement. But if you’re pissing and shitting all over the place, maybe it’s time to give Dignitas a ring.
  • Being honest and straight with everyone. Continue to tell it like it is.
  • Disposing of everyone and anyone that makes you unhappy. Keep it up. And anyone that makes you laugh – I hope you held onto them for as long as possible.

Here’s what I want you to have achieved:

  • Your driving licence. If you’re still hopping in and out of black taxis and buses, I’m thoroughly ashamed of you. You’re lazy and need to catch yourself on.
  • Buy your house. I know you’ll be tied to the bank and you’ll have to join in boring conversations about interest rates and negative equity but it will work out in the long run. The Emo needs an inheritance and if you source a good/dodgy solicitor, she’ll be rolling in it without having to use the house to pay for nursing home fees.
  • Loads of hangovers. If you’ve reached seventy without developing cirrhosis, you are a medical marvel and you should be used as a vaccine.
  • A long list of gentleman companions – life’s too short to spend it with the one person. Or if you do meet someone and you really like them, don’t let them live with you and definitely do not remarry. Thirty-four year old you didn’t get rid of one to pave the way for another.
  • Photographs of all the places you’ve visited. I hope you have ventured further than Benidorm.
  • Stories of great memories and hardly any bad ones but knowing you, you will have borne witness to many more insane incidents that would shock most people. The likelihood of you suddenly developing an optimistic outlook on life is low, so it’s OK to continue seeing Blanche from Coronation Street as a role model.
  • To be still friends with Louise and Geraldine. But if those bitches done some shit on you from 2016 to 2051 – it’s OK to ditch them.

In thirty five years time, technology will have advanced even further, you’ll probably be reading this on a hologram device while wearing a tin foil suit and floating to work on a hovercraft. That I know for sure, you’ll still be working at seventy, because of the government. Ireland will be united by then. People will talk about the olden days when Brexit happened and you can tell your grandchildren it’s partly your fault because you didn’t bother your hole voting.  Schools will be integrated and everyone will look back and shudder at sectarianism.

You’ll probably read over this blog with a huge redner because the younger version of you was such an annoying judgmental asshole. Maybe you’ve learned to keep your mouth shut after all the digs in the bake from disgruntled readers.

Who knows, more importantly, who even cares?

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