10 years? That's a decade.

You're asking me where do I see myself in ten years.

By then I will be 30. Gross, I can't even think about me being 30. But I'm hoping I'll age nicely and still be able to wear what I want to wear anytime, anywhere. I'd still be into fitness, or more of, I'd be into fitness more. We'll run marathons and take on new workouts regularly. Ten years from now I'm sure I can already differentiate what actually looks good and what I only think looks good. My eating habits would have already been better (hopefully, I turn vegan) and I'll cook for you whenever I have the time. All yoga poses would already be in my heart and I'll force you to meditate with me every now and then.

Ten years from now, I'd probably still be in law school. I feel like I really need/want/am destined to go to law school but my time just isn't now (or maybe it is, I don't know, whatever). It would be painful to balance everything but you'd buy me choco chip muffins and tea lattes so I'll get by everyday. By then I'd be done with my graduate course on Women and Development already and I'd have gone to various places in the country (and out, if my bank account permits) for volunteering opportunities. By then, my desire to live a happy hippie life would have already been fulfilled. By then, I wouldn't just be a young girl in your eyes; I would be a grown-up, a possible partner 'til the world ends.

Ten years from now, I'm sure we'd already have our own family. You, me, and a little kid in our own little sanctuary. We'd have our own cars and we won't have a stay-in housemaid because that is just slavery. We'll need help of course because we wouldn't be able to handle cleaning the whole house and all the other chores everyday what with all the responsibilities in our individual and consolidated plates. We'll have to depend on our extended families every now and then but we'll manage to keep our independence.

Ten years from now, I wouldn't be writing blog posts to no one anymore because I'd already, finally be sure that you are mine and I am yours. My online life wouldn't have to be a little bit superfluous anymore because my real life with you would really, truly be awesome. By then, when I am 30, I'd finally, truly be able to say that I am happy.

Oh, right. You asked me about MY future.

Disclaimer: This conversation may or may not have been imagined. The dreams and hopes in here may or may not be true. Judge me.

To you, the person I'm destined to kiss every New Year's Eve (except this year's or the next few)

Because I have been reading a lot of year-end posts, of letters to no one, of notes to self, and just because I just spent another holiday season with no romantic affiliations with anyone, I decided to write you a letter.

Don't get me wrong, you; I am in no hurry to "start a life with someone" because truth be told, my life has already been rolling -- rolling hard and endlessly at that (and can I just say that my plate is so full, literally and figuratively). I am young and a lot of people, my mom and my boss included, have reiterated that fact over and over.

But I am sure, you, that when you finally come into my life (or when I finally come into your life), when the balls of fate have finally decided that it is time, everything would be perfect and everything would be in it's place. My youth, or your youth, or whatever else wouldn't matter because nothing would ever be wasted and everything would count. And if ever you do get to read this, I am sure, dear you, that you would see this as hopeful and romantic and not just being idealistic because I am young.

And if ever you get to read my other posts, you, I am sure that you would always and forever reassure me that my writing is just fine, heck, it's awesome despite the grammatical errors and unlikely length and construction of sentences, because you would understand that more than appreciation, what I need is the constant push that I can write despite the lack of experience and training.
 
You probably see now that I have the tendency to be needy. You have also probably noticed that I've got a lot of issues. Yes, my beloved I do; from commitment issues, to abandonment, to anxieties - name it, I might have it. I am an exaggerated mess and my feelings are never constant. But these are not the things that make me.

So here's to hoping that I don't scare you away. I am sure that you are someone who wouldn't mind that I am this and that because you, too, are a lot of things. Here's to hoping that we will always and forever seek each other, because anything less for us both is just unacceptable.

Here's to hoping that we spend hours after work burning calories and flabs with new sports and adventures to try, that we share egg muffins or bagels and drink all sorts of teas for breakfasts, that we watch romcoms and snuggle in theaters or kickass action films to keep our adrenalines running, that we regularly study together, and I mean really study, or just read books in coffee shops and eat all the sweets we can find, that we encourage each other to finish our bucketlists (assuming that you already have one, if none, I can make you one), that we travel together and volunteer around the world, and a whole lot more because all that I am really hoping for is that we complement each other so that we may be able to be the best version of ourselves with and because of each other.

Truth be told, I still have this hope that you are already somebody that I have already met (and is just not here right now because the story says so, though the ending remains that you'd be with me, and I'd be with you). If not, well then why don't you just kill me now. Kidding aside, if you, my dear you, isn't the one that I am hoping to be with, that's just alright because I know that the universe knows better and we have already been promised for each other.

I may be tired of being alone and I honestly cannot wait for you to get here (or for me to be there) but for that which has been promised for us that is true and divine, I will. Screw gendering and ideologies, as much as I want to be politically correct all the time.

Yes I sound cheesy and highly unlikely to be myself, but for what it's worth, I meant every word of this post. Like really. Or at least that version of myself which is drunk with Lays and sweets.

PS. I don't need you to be perfect; I just need you to exist.