Dear Tom,
Please put down that “sandwich” of toasted bread and tomato sauce* and listen to me.
Firstly, I’m sorry that this message from the future isn’t too glitzy. I imagine it’s a bit disappointing that your future self is communicating to you via a letter; generally you want your messages from the future to be delivered via a hologram or a robot or something. Future you (aka me) is doing okay, but we’ve all got our budgets, particularly in this economy.
By the end of this year you will finish Year 12 with a high score (that’s not quite as high as your brother’s was), you will turn 18, you will not go on Schoolies because it clashes with musical theatre camp and you will audition for the top acting courses in the country and not get into any of them.
You will not even get a call-back from NIDA even though you thought the man running the auditions liked the look of you (don’t flatter yourself, honey).
Read the rest on Junkee here.