The lies we tell to our own selves; It hurts the most. The truths we dare to tell us, They liberate. With a strong will of hope, and a feeling very close to desperation, I pick up my pen and tell this to my other half. The other half of me who is yet to come. The one who still waits to receive the final baton of my life and take the anchor. He’s the other half of me in ten, twenty or maybe two years. The future. The half of me I strongly hope in to succeed this present phase. I’m not the only one who should be writing this letter. Even you, dear reader, have yours to write. It’s a letter of reflection. Of accountability and hope in the future. It is relative in a way too. For some,their other half lies in years to come,and for others, decades might be the case. Without regards to the variation in the definitions of our future halves, I present to you my own letter. Dear Akin-David of the future, Good day man. What’s good? It’s me Akin of the present. I don’t ge...