I get these bursts of it, every now and then. Like a high. It swells upwards and outwards from the centre of my chest – rushing with a power that’s so much stronger than the first tingles of love. In the beginning, these rushes were so intense that sometimes they’d stop me in my tracks. Make it so I had to pause whatever I was doing and just breathe for a few seconds. In and out. Spine straight, shoulders back, slightly light-headed like you get when you stand up too quickly.

Freedom.

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When I was young – maybe ten or eleven – one of my Mum’s friends gave her an entire display box of Mars bars to say thanks for a favour she’d done. Incredible, right? In case you aren’t familiar with them, Mars bars are tasty sticks of nougat with a layer of chewy caramel on top, enrobed in delicious milk chocolate. And thanks to my Mum’s friend, our family now owned an entire box of them! What?!

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When I tweet out blog posts I wrote this time last year, I am often struck by the howling sadness that I was pouring out onto these pages at the time. I figured a more balanced view from the future might be helpful, perhaps in the form of a letter to my past self. So one night I got drunk and wrote exactly that. Edited sober, because I’m professional: here’s a message from my future to my past. 

It’s worth noting, Ms GOTN-from-one-year-ago, that you might be sad right now, but it’s not like you’re doomed to misery. It’s important that you understand your life is not over. In fact, come closer, I’ll give you a glimpse of what your future holds. Listen very carefully and quit weeping, mate: it’s all cider and fuckparties from here.

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