Letter to Future Me: October Evenings and Growing up

Hi, it’s yourself, Zoe. You’re writing this at the age of 26, and when you eventually find this, you’ve probably forgotten all about it — written on a quiet Tuesday night, October 14th, 2025, at exactly 8:42 PM. Your laptop’s screen is glowing softly, your blog is open in another tab, and you’re staring at the cursor like it’s supposed to hand you inspiration. You’ve hit that weird crossroads where adulting is finally starting to feel real. You traded in your old car for a brand-new one — something most people your age only dream of, considering how impossible it’s become to afford anything lately. The cost of living is through the roof, but you’re still at home, and that’s okay. Because there’s comfort here. There’s your grandma teaching you how to cook “the proper way” and your mom who matches your silliness beat-for-beat when you both start laughing at the smallest things. It’s a time where AI is everywhere — videos, art, writing — and ChatGPT has basically taken over the internet. Who even uses Google anymore? You’ll probably laugh reading this, thinking about how you used to ask it for everything from story ideas to life advice. (Let’s be honest, it helped more than a few times.) Driving around, you’ll still see those ridiculous CyberTrucks — big gray beasts trying to look futuristic but somehow missing the mark — and those round Tesla “Eggs” that you and Caroline can’t help but nickname every time one drives by. You’ve fallen into a new rhythm lately — reading romance and fantasy novels, of all things. Younger you wouldn’t believe it. The same you who once said, “I can’t focus on books,” now has a growing stack on the bookshelf. Your guitar still sits in the corner, quietly collecting dust, like a patient friend waiting for you to pick it up again. But that’s okay, because you’ve found your rhythm elsewhere — behind the camera, capturing live music, editing band footage, and feeling most alive when the lights flicker across the stage. You’ve learned that your passions evolve, that it’s okay to change directions and let go of what no longer fits. You’ve grown more confident — not always loud, but quietly sure of what makes you happy. Oh, and yes — your fear of bugs? Still there. Probably forever. Let’s just accept that one. If you’re reading this years later, I hope you still chase that feeling — the one you get when the world feels big, and you feel small in the best way. I hope you still take photos, still write when inspiration strikes, still laugh with your mom, and still find magic in the everyday chaos. And if things ever feel uncertain again, remember this version of yourself — 26 years old, typing under the soft light of a laptop screen, dreaming of what’s next. You may not have it all figured out, but you’re doing just fine.