An Open Letter to My Future Self, Who I Suspect Will Have Amnesia

Dear Kevin,

If you are reading this letter, it is very likely that you do not remember me. In fact, if you do remember me you can put this letter down now, because you already know what it says. If you have no idea what I am talking about, that’s a good sign – A good sign you have amnesia and I haven’t wasted the limited time I have before I am stricken with amnesia.


You are not so different today then you were at the time you wrote this letter to yourself. For example, neither of us has any idea how ended up an amnesiac. This letter is an opportunity for us to fill in the blanks that our episode has left in our memory.


Your name is Kevin, and therefore you can continue reading this letter addressed to you. If your name is not Kevin, there’s a good chance that it actually is and that you have amnesia. After all, I can think of no reason why you would read a letter addressed “To My Future Self, Who I Suspect Will Have Amnesia” unless you suspect that at some point you might have planned for this apparent inevitability. If you can think of a reason why you might be reading this that isn’t that you have amnesia, you can stop – you remembering reasons for your behavior strongly suggests you do not, in fact, have amnesia. Leave this somewhere you won’t forget it for when you do.

The first big thing you should know about yourself is that at some point you probably did this to yourself. It doesn’t matter if it was years of drug abuse, near-lethal head injuries or stress-induced fugues culminating in total disassociation, the new reality of your life is that your best catalog of memories now exist within the confines of this letter. 

I know this will come as a shock but we did plan for this possibility, but I suppose that won’t matter much when you read this. In a way, I envy you; every experience will be new, and you can experience the beauty of things in their newness for the first time. All of the garbage movies and music you’ve consumed over the years is washed away and you are pure, able to enjoy things as long as you don’t remember the internet exists.

That said, it’s critical that we hammer down the most important truths and facts so that you can live your new life assured of certain things. Firstly, do not listen to the Strokes, no matter how much someone tells you that they were part of a rock music renaissance in the early 2000’s. Everything else at the time was just objectively bad and so without that context you’ll be forced to listen to something that’s a recycled version of previous, better artists. Then again, you won’t have that context either, so maybe it’ll even out as just a waste of time.

Second, and more importantly, you never drunkenly climbed up a ladder in the side yard at a friends place during a house party to impress a girl you had been seeing for a few weeks, falling like an idiot and wetting yourself after striking your head on the fence. If anyone tells you that did happen, close the car door and drive away because it certainly didn’t. You were never so mortified you fled and wrote a letter to yourself, praying for the obliteration of all memory. You wrote this way before that. 

Finally, we need to remember to feed the cat. He eats twice a day, just a half a bowl at dawn and dusk. Don’t listen to him if he acts like you haven’t fed him, because I fed him this evening before the party.

You have a cat, by the way. His name is Aladdin. Don’t forget to feed him.

Best regards,



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