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January 6, 2015
Dear 40-year-old self. Today, seven years ago, you have nearly zero percent inkling of what you want to do with your life. You have stopped trying for so long that you are more lost now than you have ever been. Right this moment while your 33-year-old self is typing this she's hoping that future her would be in a better place. I hope it works out, whatever results from the skeleton of a plan that she's cooking up. If it doesn't, I hope you've at least bungee-jumped by now. And loved yourself a bit more.