It is 2050, and I am 32. I am writing you this letter while sitting underneath a mango tree in the Volta Region. There isn’t really anything particularly spectacular about what I am doing, but in 2014, I never would have envisioned myself doing it. I never would have envisioned any event in 2030 in the first place, seeing as how I expected to die at age 27. Well, that’s a twisted version of the truth; I’d expected to have killed myself by any means possible by this time, actually.
Do you remember that discussion? It was a comment I passed on a somewhat random day, either before or between classes, at a time when I was particularly depressed for no particular reason. Of course you don’t remember – it hasn’t happened to you yet. What I said was, and I quote:
“I don’t want to live a life…
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