me in the past, me in the present, and me in the future

in the film suzume, young suzume loses her mom, and years later, her future self comes back to comfort her.

when young suzume first sees her, she realizes that it isn’t her mom and cries, “you’re not my mom.” that moment hit me hard because it captures a specific kind of grief: the pain of wanting something from your past that is already gone. her immediate anger and sadness show how badly she still yearns for what she lost. she doesn’t want someone new. she wants her mom. she wants what she once had, and nothing else feels like it could ever be the same.

what makes the scene even more painful is that both versions of suzume understand that hurt. little suzume is experiencing it for the first time, while older suzume remembers exactly what it felt like to be that little girl: lost, confused, and completely consumed by grief. in a way, they are feeling the same pain at the same time.

and i think there’s something deeply human about that. sometimes, no matter how much we grow, part of us still wishes the past could come back. both versions of suzume are connected by that longing for something they once had but can never fully return to.

the difference is that older suzume has lived long enough to know that there is life beyond that moment.

so she looks for some light in all that darkness. she thinks about everything beautiful that has happened since: the people she has met, the love she has experienced, and the life she has gotten to live. she tells her younger self that even though everything hurts so much right now, she is going to grow up. she is going to meet new people, find someone she loves, experience so much more of life, and eventually, things will be okay. there will be ups and downs, but she has an entire journey ahead of her that she can’t see yet.

and i think that message is for older suzume too.

she is comforting her younger self with everything she now knows, but she is still living through uncertainty of her own. she doesn’t know exactly how her story will unfold from here either. in telling that little girl to keep going, she is reminding herself to do the same: keep moving forward and trust that the stars will eventually align again.

there is so much intensity and raw emotion in that scene. i could feel the pain of both suzumes. it took over my body and genuinely gave me chills because i saw so much of myself in both of them.

sometimes i wish i could go back and tell my younger self the same thing.

there was a time when i was so anxious about my career. i was scared i wouldn’t get an internship, wouldn’t get a job, or simply wasn’t good enough. i remember constantly getting rejected from companies and wondering when something was finally going to work out for me.

now, i’m 23. i have the career i wanted. i get to live in the city, and i’m surrounded by amazing people. so many things in my life right now are things my younger self once desperately hoped for.

i would tell my younger self, “just keep going. i know you can’t see it right now, but this part works out.”

i would tell him that things are going to get better. that he’s going to meet amazing people, experience things he couldn’t even imagine yet, become smarter and stronger, and build a new life he’s proud of. there will be a lot of struggle along the way, but slowly, things will start falling into place because he kept going.

but there are also things younger me had that i don’t have anymore.

younger dylan knew what it felt like to be deeply in love and deeply loved by someone. sometimes, just like suzume longing for her mom, i find myself wishing i could return to something i once had. not because the past was perfect, but because there are feelings, people, and versions of ourselves that are hard to let go of when they meant so much to us.

but sometimes, growth means taking one step back so you can eventually move two steps forward. maybe the things i yearn for from my past aren’t meant to return exactly as they were. maybe they come back in new, evolved forms.

it’s like building your first house and eventually watching it fall apart. when you build again, you don’t start from nothing. you remember where the foundation cracked, what couldn’t hold, and what you wish you had done differently. the next house becomes stronger at its foundation and more intentional in all the little details. it isn’t the same house, but maybe that’s exactly why it can become something even better. and yes, a stronger, more detailed house might take longer to build. but with patience, direction, and constant care, you’re building something meant to last.

that doesn't take away from your old house. it will always be there in memory and will always give you something to smile about, or even miss.

in this new chapter of my life, i’m fighting different battles.

i have proof from my own life that things can change, but knowing that doesn’t suddenly make the present easier to live through.

i’m struggling with rejection in different forms and with the lack of direction that comes with being post-grad.

i’m trying to understand my why, my identity, and what genuinely makes me happy.

i feel like i’ve grown so much and put so much effort into becoming a better version of myself, yet some of the things i want still haven’t come. it’s hard to trust progress when the results aren’t always visible yet.

i’m also struggling with uncertainty. my fear of abandonment makes it hard to get close to people without becoming anxious, and i find myself worrying about things completely outside of my control even when i know worrying won’t change them.

i want certainty about people, relationships, and my future. however, certainty is the one thing life can’t give me. i'm wanting something that doesn't exist.

underneath all of that, i’m still learning how to handle my emotions in a healthy way. i think i’ve gotten good at looking okay from the outside: confident, strong, composed, like this immovable force that can’t be stopped. but internally, there are still moments when i feel so fucking anxious.

yes, it is good that i feel things out and then act on logic. but it's not easy doing this. it's not easy going against what your heart is telling you, even though you know it's what is best in the long term.

it still eats me away, every single day... what could have been. what i want to do but CAN'T. it's just so freaking hard....

sometimes i wish an older version of me could come back and tell me it will all be okay

i wish older me could tell me that i figure myself out. that i find love and build relationships that last. that all of this effort leads somewhere. that the things that feel enormous right now won’t always feel this way.

it's just that uncertainty is hard for me. i hate getting my hopes up because it usually ends up in disappointment

i want to be excited about people. i want to be excited about life. i want to look forward to things.

what i learned is that hope comes with accepting that some things might not work out.

i can’t hear what my future self would tell me, and i can’t guarantee that everything will happen exactly how i want it to, but younger me couldn’t see where he's at now, either. he just had to keep going long enough to eventually understand.

so for now, i need to do the same. i need to trust that my future self will confidently say that "things will end up the way it should be".

be patient. trust the process. and most importantly, always hold onto a glimmer of hope.

hope is what keeps the stars moving closer together. without hope, everything remains scattered and disconnected.

the stars will align. i just need to be patient, always look forward to the future, and most importantly, have hope.

the past may not come back. but that doesn’t mean love, connection, or something even more beautiful won’t find me again in another form.

just like older suzume, knowing that the things will eventually work out doesn’t erase the pain, uncertainty, and fear of the present.

life is unpredictable. sometimes the stars have to scatter before they can align.

i’ve been lost before, and somehow, i found my way into a new, brighter future.

hopefully, years from now, i’ll look back at myself writing this and realize that this was another one of those times and i just couldn’t see it yet.