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Letter

Written to whoever I turn out to be. Left here so it is harder to quietly revise later.

Sheet 6 of 6

Texarkana, Texas · July 2026

I got the internship. Ground Floor Collective, here in Texarkana — found out May 29th. Before that was months of applying and not hearing back, and I want you to remember that stretch specifically, because I know how quickly it gets rewritten later into something that sounds inevitable. It wasn't. It was just quiet for a long time.

Dad told me to be the best at one thing. He's probably right. I'm not going to do it. I've thought about what that costs — the person who picks one thing will go further in it than I'll go in any of mine — and I'd still rather find out.

Two apps in, I've learned the same lesson twice: the code was never the hard part. Getting two people in the same room at the same time was.

So — did you finish the A+ and the Security+? Did you actually leave before 35, or did the money make it complicated? Did you learn the guitar, or did it sit in a corner?

If Mars happened: remember you wrote this in Texarkana, and nobody had any particular reason to believe you.

If it didn't, I hope you're alright anyway. That part matters more than I want to admit right now.

Kushal