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  • Writer's picturewhit


I wish that I could meet myself one day. Just casually sit next to me in the library of this university, or bump into myself at one of my favorite restaurants, or share a cab with 50 year old, successful Whitney. What would I say? Who would I be? Am I going to turn into a grumpy old lady with no sense of style? Will I be some crazy soccer mom who regrets never going to grad school? Will I be divorced or in the midst of the greatest love story of all time? Would I be rude? Would I smile back at myself when passing me on the sidewalk? Will I turn into the shadow of my dreams? Or will I exceed them? Will I ever publish that book? Will I ever hike that mountain I have plastered on my wall? Did I ever go visit that monument I love at the tip of South America? Did I make it Paris? Or New York? Or Rome? Or London? Or Shang-Hai? Or Berlin? Or Chiang Mai? Or Rio? Or anywhere? What have I become? Where have I gone? Who would I be?

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