Write a letter to your future self

How to write a letter to your future self

To write a letter to your future self, pick the day you will open it, then write plainly about four things: where you are now, what you hope for, what you want to remember and what you are letting go. Specific beats profound. "I'm writing this on the blue sofa with the broken spring" will mean more in a year than "I'm in a transitional phase".

1. Choose the opening date first. Knowing it is one year or five changes what you write. One-year letters are about habits and small wins. Five-year letters are about who you are becoming.
2. Describe today in detail. Your age, your city, your job, who you text most, what's in your fridge, the song on repeat. These are the details you will forget first.
3. Say what you want without hedging. Write the hope as if nobody else will read it, because nobody will.
4. Write down what you want to remember. Something you already have and might take for granted later.
5. Name what you are putting down. A worry, a person, a habit. Writing it in a letter is a small, private way of leaving it behind.
6. End kindly. The person reading it may be having a hard week. Write the last line for her.

Prompts for a letter to your future self

If you get stuck, answer one or two of these. You don't need all of them, and short answers are fine.

• What does a normal Tuesday look like for me right now?
• What am I worried about this month that I hope you have forgotten?
• Who am I closest to right now, and what do I love about them?
• What am I secretly proud of that I haven't told anyone?
• What do I spend too much time on, and what do I wish I spent it on?
• Where do I want to be waking up when you read this?
• What would make me cry happy tears to hear you say?
• What is one thing I'm doing right now that I hope you kept doing?
• What rule am I living by that I hope you have dropped?
• What am I scared to want out loud?
• What did I eat today, wear today and listen to today?
• What do I want you to forgive me for?
• If you are not where I hoped, what do I want you to know?
• What would I tell you about love, from here?

When to open your letter: 1, 3 or 5 years

Open a letter to your future self in one year if you want to see how much a single year changes, and in three or five years if the letter is about something big. A year is the most satisfying for most people: you still recognise the writer, and the gap between then and now is easy to feel.

• 1 year: good for a fresh start, a birthday or New Year. Write it on the same date you plan to open it.
• 3 years: good for graduating, moving cities or starting a career. Long enough for real change.
• 5 years: good for letters about the life you want to build. Expect to be surprised by what you cared about.

To make sure you actually open it, use the email button and schedule it, save the image somewhere you won't delete, or print it and seal it in an envelope with the date written on the front.

A letter from your future self

A letter from your future self flips the exercise: instead of writing forward, you read a letter written back to you by the person you will be. Tap "From my future self" above and the same four answers turn into a letter from her, looking back at where you are tonight, quoting what you wrote and telling you how it feels from the other side.

People find this version calming rather than motivating. It is easier to believe in a future that is already talking to you. It is also the idea behind Vera, our iPhone app, which shows you a short letter from your future self, written from your own words, each time you reach for an app you have sealed.

Examples of a letter to your future self

Two short examples, one in each direction, written with the tool above.

Dear future me,

It's October 20, 2026 as I write this, and you won't open it until October 20, 2027. Here's where I am right now, before you forget the details. I'm 24, sharing a flat in Leeds and working at a café. Here's what I want, written down so I can't pretend I didn't: to be doing design work I'm proud of. One thing I don't want you to lose: Sunday mornings with Jess were already enough.

Love,
Maya

Dear Maya,

I'm writing from October 2027, a year after the night you sat down and wrote this. I remember that night better than you'd think. You were hoping for this: "To be doing design work I'm proud of." I want you to know it didn't stay a hope. You said you were done carrying this: "Checking if he's seen my stories." It took a little while, but you really did put it down, and I walk lighter for it.

— your future self

If you want something shorter to read every morning, the manifestation generator turns one wish into a present-tense script in a few seconds.

Keep reading