Written for a person who doesn't exist yet
A time-capsule label addressed to your future self works because of its tense — someone deciding now to grant a stranger who doesn't exist yet the point.

DO NOT OPEN BEFORE, printed on a label stuck slightly crooked to a riveted metal panel. Underneath, filled in by hand: 2041.
Smaller again, in the same hand: YOU WERE RIGHT ABOUT THE HOUSE.
Whoever wrote that line doesn't know yet whether it's true. They've decided, in advance, to act as if it will be.
What is this design actually addressed to?
Somebody who doesn't exist yet.
The tense is what makes the format work: a note to your current self is a diary entry, but a note to a future self is written in the voice of somebody making a promise to a stranger they haven't met, on behalf of a person they used to be. YOU WERE RIGHT is the clearest version of that — not a wish, but a verdict handed down in advance, before any of the evidence is in.
Why a label rather than a diary page?
Because a label is an instruction addressed outward, and a future self counts as outward.
DO NOT OPEN BEFORE is the register used to tell a stranger what to do with an object; a genuine time capsule uses exactly this language because whoever eventually opens it might not fully remember writing the note themselves. A diary page assumes a reader who already has the context. A label doesn't assume anything — it has to say what it means from a standing start, which is closer to what a message to a future self actually is.
How do you pick the year, and what goes underneath it?
Far enough out that the outcome is genuinely unknown is most of what the date needs to do.
A year already close enough to guess at defeats the point — which is the same judgement call any exact number printed on a shirt has to make. The second line is the part that has to earn its place, and specific beats warm every time: a named worry, a named decision, a named house, rather than a general wish that things go well. YOU WERE RIGHT ABOUT THE HOUSE works because it's checkable. Later, it was either true or it wasn't.
Does writing to your future self raise any rights question?
Not really — nothing here is borrowed.
The words are the writer's own, addressed to nobody but themselves, which puts the whole design outside the territory quoting anybody else raises. The one thing worth thinking about before naming somebody else in the line — a partner, a child, a house shared with somebody — is whether they'd want that detail on a shirt at all, which is a courtesy rather than a legal question.
Does it work for more than one person?
It scales to a couple or a household without changing the format at all.
DO NOT OPEN BEFORE works the same way addressed to two people making a joint prediction as it does addressed to one. What has to change is the second line, which needs to be something both of them would still recognise as true or false later, rather than a private reference just one of them would understand.
Won't it just be embarrassing to actually open one day?
Maybe, and that's not really a failure of the design.
A prediction that turns out wrong is still evidence of who the writer was at the time they wrote it, which is arguably closer to the point than being right. The label doesn't promise the future self will agree with the past one — it just records what the present self believed, on a specific date, before finding out.
Does it print well?
Cleanly, because the design is already two typographic registers doing two different jobs.
The printed label — DO NOT OPEN BEFORE — stays flat, bold and slightly worn at the edges, like commercial stencil type; the handwritten fill-in wants the opposite treatment, thinner and uneven, so the contrast between manufactured and written by hand reads instantly. Rivets and panel seams read better as a few bold marks than as detailed metal texture, which is finer than a shirt print holds onto anyway. Dust blue, steel grey and faded olive all suit the panel. Two inks covers it.
How do I get one made?
Describe the capsule at JustOG — the year, the line underneath it, and what kind of panel or box it should look mounted on. Pick a direction, drag the crop frame, see it composited on the real garment, and it's made to order and shipped.
Designs other people have published are in the shop.
The rivets are real steel-panel rivets, four of them, and the label sits stuck on slightly crooked.