Disclaimer - All recognisable characters belong to their original owners. I do not make a profit from writing this; I simply do it for my own amusement. No copyright infringement intended.

PROMPT: "You deserve a love that always feels like summer."

I was twenty-one years old when I wrote myself a letter. I was preparing to leave home for the first time and head off to college. I came from a small village, and my leaving was the talk of the town. I was optimistic and so ready to experience life.

There was so much that I wanted to do. There was so much that I wanted to see. And so, on my last night in town, I sat down and penned a letter to my future self. I gave myself some advice and asked myself to remember who I was, where I came from and where I wanted to go.

It was silly, really. I'd not spent long on it. My family were hosting a leaving party for me, so when it was written, I folded it up and placed it inside a book on my bookshelf.

In all honesty, I had forgotten about it. I'd left the next day, leaving the book behind and the letter falling into the recesses of my mind.

Until two weeks ago. My brother had brought a box of my belongings to my new house, and as I was unpacking the box, the letter had fallen out. It was musty, and the paper faded, but it was fifteen years old.

I'd spent some time simply looking at it before placing it next to my bed and making myself a promise that I would read it.

I didn't dare to do it then. I don't know why. It made me nervous. I think I was scared. Scared because I wasn't the same person I was fifteen years ago. People change. I know that. But I knew that I'd changed, and not necessarily for the better. I'd left a small-town girl with big dreams and a positive attitude. Yet, slowly, over the years, I'd become cynical. I'd let the mundane day-to-day life pull me down and drag me under. The daily phone calls to my parents became less and less and dwindled to once a week - when I could remember. The friends I promised to visit were nowhere in sight, living their lives with children and partners who took up their time. The sights I wanted to visit were just wishes now - dreams that had been lost along the way.

Twenty-one-year-old me seemed like a lifetime ago. An old faded memory that was dissipating more and more every day. I had a successful career, but that was it. I couldn't even say I enjoyed my place of work or co-workers. I woke up, went to work, and then came home. Again and again and again. It was not how I saw my life panning out. I'd been much more optimistic when I was younger.

And it was one specific piece of advice I had given myself that I would take to heart. Because the younger me deserved this. I deserved to be happy. I'd dated in my twenties. None of the men had been anything special. I'd settled. I'd tolerated behaviour I shouldn't have done simply because it was easy. It was easier to ignore the smell of perfume than confront them about it. It was easy to overlook the mess and the disdain for my job because fighting about it would result in one thing. And I didn't have the energy for that. Not then.

Yet, reading the letter reminded me of something: my worth. I was an intelligent woman with a bright future ahead. I was funny and attractive and deserved someone who saw that in me.

I deserved a love that always felt like summer.

#deserve