A letter from December 31st, 2020

Dear FutureLemon, Ik ur prolly dying from all the assessments and tasks and ... stuff that u had to do over the last year. I mean. I'm sitting at 12:49am on January 1st 2021 just thinking,'God. I gotta do IT. I gotta do French. I gotta do geo n maths n English n loads of other shtuff." N then I realise u don got IT no more. Ur never gonna have to draw another feasible design. U even get to drop PE! Actually, the u've prollt already dropped it. There's so many things I wanna say. So many things I wanna tell u. First, never EVER get over CLEXA. I will END U if that happens. Second, Erin Hansons' poems are going to be the next thing u read after this. K? Now I'm gonna go deeep. Don't give up. No matter what. No matter the grades u got. No matter the shouting n the screaming n the fighting n the internal battles fought alongside Clarke n Lexa n Madi n all those people u wished to meet just a year ago. You gotta keep fighting. Yu gonplei nou ste odon. Not now. Not ever. Understand? If u ever find urself in a bad spot, remember, ur gonna get an email like this telling u, yes. U made it. U survived. I hope u see urself as the survivor I see u as. ge smak daun, gonna op nodotaim. If u could see urself through my eyes, under think the same. Ur awesome just the way u r. K? I hod yu in☺ Now, please tell me u r atleast fluent in a little bit of trigedasleng. If not, good luck understanding some of the above. Soooo, anyway. I've run out of shit to talk about. Imma discuss stuff as it comes to me. Urs truly, Ur PastLemon 🍋