To Me When I’m 50,

Dear Me in 2050, 

I’m writing to you because of climate change. Right now, I have a weird relationship with it because I feel like I can’t do anything substantial to change the atmosphere. There are so many people who don’t even believe it’s real. I know that climate change is a real and existing detriment to the world we live in, but if I take shorter showers, big corporations are still going to use fossil fuels and pollute the water and air. I’ve always felt, especially recently, that what I do won’t make a big enough impact to make a difference. I’m just one person within a world of people who have different priorities, and I can’t do much. I’m hoping I only feel this way because I’m barely an adult. Being 21 is scary because you’re old enough to have access to facets of adulthood, but there’s no way of knowing when you’ll feel like an adult. What I’m trying to say is, I don’t think I can make a difference until I know what I’m doing.  

This is where you come in. If you’re reading this when you’re supposed to, you’ll be like 50 years old which is so scary. I’m so glad you made it this far, but I hope it wasn’t too harrowing. I want to promise to you that I will do the little things at least. I will try to eat less meat, continue to recycle, and throw my cigarette buds in the trash can, not out the window. I know I feel meaningless now, but the fact that I’m even writing to you tells me I have a little hope buried in myself. Also I hope you’re still not smoking when you’re 50, but I get having an emergency pack. Anyway, I hope you have only gained hope since the conception of this letter now. I believe in you. 

Sincerely, 

Me