Future Generation

Dear Future Generation,

I see you found my letter. This is Uncle Nestor. I’m 90 years old as I write this. We’ll probably never meet. Excuse me as a tear rolls down my wrinkled brown cheek. I’m sad angry and bitter but I simply must write this.

I apologize for failing you by not going after my dreams. I know you’re wondering why I’m apologizing, but the family’s life could have looked very different and more promising if I would have opened a business to generate a life-long fortune. We would have employed our own and helped the people in the community. I have nothing to leave you now but furniture and clothes, material things that I worked 40-plus hours a week to obtain. Now it means nothing to me. It just sits there..

I dust it every now and then, but it’s lost its significance. It just symbolizes the chase for possessions. The chase is only temporary, but the physical and emotional pain is long lasting. My youth is gone. The women are gone. The job is gone. But I’m still here suffering for what I didn’t do with the time God gave me. Lord, forgive me for squandering it. I could have used that time to discover HIS mission for me. Earthly treasures and carnal living emptied my time and pockets Your mission will bring you fulfillment-that’s what life is about. Not this material stuff. I mean there’s nothing wrong with having it, but don’t base your existence on it.

You go after your mission and you’ll get whatever you want. When I began studying universal laws God explained to me the reasons for my suffering. He explained I had been misled by society into living a false life of flair and no substance. I can’t believe I aborted my mission for flashy living. I didn’t even discover what my mission was because I was too busy impressing people and being cool. I can’t even remember half of those people’s names I was trying to be cool for. They’re dead, or in an old folks’ home, or just forgotten, forgotten by their family and by society.

I’ve written enough. I’m going back to my painting. I started doing this a year ago. People say I’m pretty good at it, and you know what? It’s a spiritual medication that helps alleviate the pain, suffering and bitter memories that I have.

Like today.

Ok. Good bye, now. Have a wonderful life.


Mansu is an Imagionationist from Brooklyn, NY. He uses his visual prowess to construct unique stories and poetry, and has independently published several books that include: The Disappearance Of Hate (2009), Mental Diet (2010, 2011), Biscuits And Yogurt Vol. 1 (2014), and Texting In New York City (2014). He can be reached at Ohassa@gmail.com, Instagram, Twitter and Facebook

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