A letter to the future

The first week of third grade was exciting which i did'nt expect. I was expecting some real hard work with lots of writing and solving huge equations. Instead, we did'nt do any school work but, we did logically fun activities, we played with our peers, we went for lunch and we slept. I thought that it was all a waste of time and soon, I got tired of the same games over and over. That was until, my new teacher Mr. Andrews gave us an activity to return for the next week on friday. The task was to write a letter to our future selves, asking him/her what job they had or telling them our expectations for our future. My teacher says its a great benefit as time flies and you can get to see what you achieved over the years. Mr. Andrews would collect them on monday and keep them safe for us until we are adults.

I was excited more than ever and could'nt wait to write my letter. The minute the activity was given out, I began to ponder about what exactly to write. Even when I was dissmissed from class, I was still thinking about my letter. I went to my sisters classroom but, the classroom was empty. I was looking for her everywhere so that we could finally be together again as I did'nt spend much time with her during school. I was walking in circles until I spotted lucy standing underneath the assembly area. Thats where the parents come to collect their children. I felt relief at last because, I have finally found lucy. She was happy to see me too. We hugged each other tightly then, I started boasting about my special task.

Sooner than later, my parents finally came to pick us up. I was still in excitement of the task my teacher gave to me and immediately started talking about it in the car.

"Mommy, Daddy, my teacher Mr. Andrews told us to write a letter to our future selves", I said.

"Oh thats sound great well we will help you with it as soon as we get home" , said my father.

"No, I can do it on my own, thank you", I said.

" Okay well if you can thats alright", my mother said.

Although my parents wanted to assit me in completing the letter, I did nkt accept their help and I was confident that I can do it all by my self.

" Personally, I think you should let mommy and daddy help, besides you barely passed your english exam last year and I doubt that you can write one paragraph yet alone five!" shouted Lucy.

"Lucy ! how many times have I told you to be nice? when will you girls get along?" screamed my mother.

Lucy just did'nt care about my feelings sometimes but, I was nlt going to let her defy my abilities or set limits to my potential. Based on how lucy was responding to me, I sensed the spikes of her jealousy. One that surely pricked lucy hard. Then there again, there it was, a vicious grin of cruelty. Sometimes I question myself, Is my sister the one with a mental issue? I thought it was quiet unfair for my family thinking that I am going bonkers just because I spoked with Zolene but, they think of nothing when Lucy's behaviour keeps on changing. It was very clear that my sister was bipolar. Althought it is not much of a big deal like talking with animals, I think my sister needs sort of therapy as well. I am sure her change in treatment towards me is evident.

When we got home, the first thing did was to shower then, I hrab some folder paper and started writing my letter but, I tend to find myself stuck and starting over multiple times. I was starting to have mix feelings about the letter, on whether to give up or not. I became stressed and hopeless untill, mommy asked my sister and I what we wanted to eat.

"Oh my darest digestive system!" I shouted agressively.

"I swear! you had to exaggerate your hunger didnt you? I hope eating some food brings ideas to your dominant brain so that you can write a proper letter!" shouted lucy.

I simply ignored her ignorant ways, taking to Lucy would only make things worse and strengthen the stress on my shoulders. Since the greatest insuly was to not be answered. I pulled the stunt on her just how it is because, the last time I checked I am the first seven year old in my entire school history with one of the higest IQ whilst, I failed half of my classes in second grade. Maybe Lucy was right, eating some food may calm my nerves and let the ideas flow and besides, I believe that I should eat all I want and enjoy for tomorrow I may nkt have any to eat. Afterall, food is the path to my heart and it is my friend sometimes.

My stomach was already twisting and I instantly knew that something has got to be left out. Writng my letter was no fun anymore I shut the book with the folder paper just as I heard the word food and followed my mother to the kitchen. I watched her every move and every method she used of preparing the cheese sandwiches as my hungry was yearning for the deliciousness of the afternoon lunch. My mouth was dripping as the sweet smell of the cheese melting on the meat diffused the air, my tongue was tremble and my taste buds were pop up just the scent arose even more travelling further into my nostrils. It was as if I was already tasting the sandwiches just by smelling and looking at it. When I thought my imagery would end there, I was given this huge, juicy, dripping, tasty sandwich with a frozen cup of coco cola soda. My heart beated faster and skipped a two or three beats just the mintue when I took a bite into the sandwich. The atmosphere was perfect for a moment like this and for sure, I knew that this afternoon lunch will forever be apart of me, even when its passed out.

I could almost feel the food particles travelling inside my body. Each and every bite I took, I voukd feeling them ytaking their tine to go down my digestive system then, the crushed peieces ran down my osaphogus as soon as I flung that icy cold soda down my throat. The temperature was pretty much hot during the day and boy, did this refreshing beverage cool me down from the inside and from the outside.

Since all that savoury and wholesomeness was finished, it was now the moment I have been waiting for. It was time to write my letter. I got a little sadden and irritated by Lucy's jealousy. I started out with many different sentences but, I did not like the idea of them or how they sounded rhythmatically. I got frustrated by the seconds and crushed papers after papers throwing them into the bin, creating a massive paper tower. However I still believed in my self and thought that I did'nt need any help at all. The truth was, I was in third grade and no third grader ask fkr help with school work, as I thought at the time. I guess I was too filled with pride. I have always looked up to my twin as she is mlre confident and bold. She does her homework by herslef and I want to be just like her but, maybe one side of the apple always have a worm bite does' nt it? I questioned to myself.

After all those backlash I got from my sister and after all those mental breakdowns, I think it was time to swallow my pride and go ask for help but, I was too late. Seems like I had forgot that my parents had to leave to the bakery to go oversee what and how their employees have been manuvioring the business. Grandpa was the only one there with me and I did'nt think he knows about letter and I did'nt suppose Lucy would help me either. I felt down and hopeles. I went back to my room just to cry. When suddenly grandma ran through my mind. I started to miss her and that made my cry even more but, I stopped when I remember that my father said that grandpa used to write grandma letter back in the older days. Who knows maybe grandpa still got the gist and its worth a shot.

Grandpa seemed to know alot abkut writing. He says it used to be a obby when he was a boy. Aong side golfing, weiting was his second favourite. Grandpa Maxwell told me that he would nlt write the letter for me but, instead he would show me my mistakes and guide me along the way. I learnt about how to write paragraphs, sentences and hiw to use proper grammar. I even learnt new terms one of which is: the writing block. The writing block is basically when writers or authors become blank and lost for ideas when writing. Grandpa says that I was experiencing that earlier when trying to write the letter on my own. Inorder for me to complete my two hundred word letter to the future, grandpa bated me with some snacks and sweets. He said setting an award or treat for yourself, will push you to the limits in doing something you are not motivated to do. In the long run it works like magic and before I knew it, I was finished. It turns out that the girl who did'nt pass her english class last term wrote an perfectly essay on her own.

In the night, I read the letter to my parents and they liked it very much, I was surprised that even lucy liked it aswell.

"Its actually a good piece of literary work, I like it and I think I should write one for myself and let Mommy and daddy keep it for me", said lucy.

The following week, when I returned my letter, I was boasting about how professional my letter sounded. I could not wiat to step before the camera and read my letter. When Mr. Andrews called up on me, I stepped like a boasty brown horse strolling along the path between the desk and chairs.

I started by introducing my self then I began to read my well written letter. Before I could even finish, a round of applause was echoing in the room and I felt honoured. I was waving and stopping before as if they were the fans at my concert. The teacher was very much pleased at first and said that it was well written and was the best of all my classmates. Mr Andrews did not believe that I wrote the letter but some how, I tried to convince him otherwise after all I used simple third grade vocabulary

I was feeling over the moon until a fellow peer of mine barged in and spoiled the mood. She said I wished my letter was as good as Lacey's. The teacher told my friend that she did'nt have to worry and that this letter isnt graded so it did'nt have to be perfect. At that moment I paused. I felt stuck and broken. I could not believe it. I have been through so much to get it done over the weekends and I felt wasted . I had got so many negative comments and so many frustration only to ear that I could have just slap dash my letter meaning that even though it had a word count, it did'nt have to that much perfect.

"Atleast I am now advanced on letter writing in my class", I thought

As expected, Lucy laughed. She thought that I wasted my time, but I saw a greater means to it.