Thirty years from now, someone will discover the scrapbook I’ve made containing my deepest secrets, wildest thoughts, and honest opinions. And the preface will gonna be this:
If you hate reading, please give this to a friend. And I thank you for that. Or you could try skimming first before doing so.
If you like reading, please move forward. And I love you for that. Then give this to a friend and write your own.
Everything changes, but they say history repeats itself. And I think because of that, a person or two would find my scrapbook relatable. For even though I wrote that 30 years ago, same things happen still—when it comes to love, family, friends, marriage, sin, career, gender, faith, and a lot more we could think of.
I’d like them to know that they are not alone. I’d like them to feel that they are normal. I’d like them to see that they have a friend in me. And I’d like them to experience life on their own.
My time capsule would not just include the scrapbook. It will also hold three more special things that come with my favorite colors. A keychain of a mermaid with a maroon tail, an oversized mustard sweater, and a cute gray coffee mug. Why? Just because.
Everything was just make-believe. And I don’t know if I’ll ever consider making this real. After all, I haven’t got a hold of those three special things yet.