"Roads? Where we're going, we don't need roads" Dr Emmett Brown to Marty McFly

Today I feel like Marty McFly and if you don't know who he is you are probably too young to be reading this post. As I zip zap through the past and meet the 20 something version of myself. I see her sitting in the ungodly hours of the night, typing away at a purple and white basic looking web page. Legs crossed and perched up on the computer table, sitting on a chair which had seen better days and is now a couple of inches too low because of the all the nightly abuse it has endured. As I peer closer at the old school desktop monitor it reads 'Diary of a Neurotic'. I almost laugh out loud at the trivialness and self diagnosis. I remind myself that I am here by a freaky chance and should not judge, this was a different time and a very different me.

What strikes me the most is the inability to relate to this person. Who is she? And why does she think anyone should care what she thinks or feels? Why is she putting so much of herself out there in cyberspace? Why is it important for her to share under the garb of catharsis?

That me is too young, naive and passionate like a latest model, bright and shiny car. Testing the boundaries of speed, roads, weather and traffic. Like the beat up car from back to future, the recent me is envious of the the time when she was relevant, unique and limitless. I admire the richness of her pursuits and variety of encounters. That me is so different from the recent me.

I want to tell her it will all be alright. These extreme emotions will pass, not a lot will matter later and life will go so fast, you won't even have the time to dwell on things. You will chug along, on this beat up road of life  and soon will be numbed by stability, predictability and responsibility.

Time travel is a bitch, the past always looks brighter than it was at that time. Problems always look smaller than the crisis of that time and most of the past is forgotten in exchange for a more promising tomorrow.