It was an ordinary day, and I was lost in the usual rhythm of life when something unexpected happened. Out of nowhere, I encountered a man—someone who seemed strangely familiar, as though he carried a weight of recognition that settled deep in my chest. Before I could say anything, he embraced me, a gesture that felt oddly reassuring. I could sense it, this man was me—from the future.
I couldn't comprehend it at first, but it was undeniable. He had come back to offer guidance, perhaps to steer my life in a direction I hadn't considered. I told my friend about the encounter, but he was skeptical at first, unsure of what to make of it. As we talked more, I grew curious about this future version of myself. My friend became increasingly intrigued, and over time, future me began to reveal details of my future—things I would see, places I would go, how I would look.
There was one thing he kept hidden, though. The next day, I had an important test, and he said nothing about it. I went, but I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong. It didn't go well, and when I walked out, I felt defeated. Meanwhile, future me was sitting with my friend, who, eager to learn more, began asking him about his own future.
But future me had something else in mind. He realized I was late, and so he left to find me. As he walked through the streets, people began to notice him, recognizing him, but no one spoke. He didn't seem to care. It wasn't until evening that he finally found me, sitting on a bench, downcast and uncertain.
We talked. I confessed that the test hadn't gone well, but future me, in his usual quiet manner, didn't comment. I couldn't hold it in anymore. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you warn me?" I asked.
He paused, looking at me with calm certainty. "If I had told you, you wouldn't have tried harder. You wouldn't have felt the sting of failure, and that's something you need to experience. Sooner or later, you will. It's a part of growth."
His words stuck with me, and I nodded in understanding, though I didn't press further. We began walking home, when suddenly, we heard gunshots coming from a nearby house. Without thinking, we rushed toward the sound. Inside, we found two bodies, lifeless from gunshot wounds. The air was thick with tension when we spotted the robber, gun in hand, standing over the victims.
I froze, panic seizing me. I didn't know what to do. The robber noticed us almost immediately and, without hesitation, aimed his weapon at us. My body went numb, resigning to what seemed like an inevitable fate. But in that moment, future me acted without a second thought. He shoved me behind a wall, yelling, "Run!"
I looked at him, paralyzed with fear. His face was set in determination. He was me. I trusted him, and for some reason, I knew he would return. I didn't question it. I ran—fear surging through me with every step.
When I finally made it home, my friend was waiting for me. He saw the terror on my face and asked about future me. I couldn't speak. The fear choked me, the loss already creeping in.
The next day, the news came. Three people were found dead in the district where we had been. The report mentioned one person had tried to fight off the robbers but had died on the spot. My heart shattered. The realization hit me like a freight train. That person in the news, the one who had died trying to protect me, was future me. And with his death, I understood something terrible. My life would end at that same age.
I grieved deeply but carried on. Life didn't stop, and neither could I.
Ten years later, I found myself sitting at my desk, reflecting on the work ahead. The years had passed, and I had moved forward—until something caught my eye. An app on my laptop titled "Go to Past."
My mind raced. If I didn't go back, my past self would die, and if he died, so would I. Time had a strange way of shaping events, but in this moment, I realized something. I had a chance to change it.
I didn't hesitate. I donned black clothes, the same as I had worn years ago, and activated the app. Moments later, I found myself in the past, staring at my younger self. He looked up at me in confusion, unsure of what to make of this sudden appearance. I said nothing, but my heart pounded with certainty. I had to change the course of time, not just for me, but for him.
The journey had come full circle. I was back, ready to rewrite the future.
The end...