Yesterday, I published an article that was very close to my heart. In it, I wrote a letter to my younger self—a seventeen-year-old Ed Mountaineer, who was getting ready to face the world and take on the challenges I knew lay ahead for him.
Surprisingly, I received a letter back. I know. Crazy. But I did. I’ve reprinted it below.
Please stop contacting me. I don’t know who you are, but I am definitely not your “younger self.” I am just a guy who works at Starbucks and I’m not even seventeen. I’m twenty-six years old.
I’m not sure if you don’t understand the concept of time or if you’re a mental patient, or both. At my work, I’ve had a lot of weird experiences. I’ve been hit on, asked to pose nude, and even proposed to. I’ve never had a creepy as fuck older dude like you keep passing me letters about how I’m him, only seventeen years old, and living in the past, whenever he was seventeen years old. I should say, I’ve never had that happen until you showed up.
My dad is a lawyer and he said he’d deal with you, but I told him I’m old enough to take care of this on my own. So this is an honest request for you to just seriously fuck off and stop coming in to my Starbucks.
I get that you’re probably lonely and maybe not dangerous, but you do have that insane look in your eyes all the time and you never say anything to me and just hand me the letters. I think that’s pretty fucked up.
Again, leave me alone or there will be consequences.
(Not giving you my real name)
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