Not many of you know, but I’ve been working on a memoir (novel style) for the past year, and since I’ve unfortunately taken a bit of a hiatus from working on it (no one to blame but myself) I seem to have forgotten what I saved it as on my computer. While searching for it using every keyword I can think of, I came across this gem, and thought about not sharing it because when I wrote it seven years ago, I think I meant it to be private, but decided that it’s worth sharing.
My 12th grade English teacher gave our class a pretty cliche assignment – write a letter to yourself. As you’ll see, I wasn’t too excited about the assignment, because I saved it for the last moment. But what I wrote was relevant then and is still relevant now, and it was exactly what I needed to read today.
May 16, 2007
That was weird. I mean, its weird writing to myself, and starting a letter to myself is a strange thing to do at eight o’clock when I know that I should be working on my term paper before it ends up being fifteen pages. Even though it will be fifteen pages, whether I do it tonight or not. Okay, now I need to stop rambling.
I’m going to try. I don’t know why I waited until the last minute to start this letter. Whenever I get an assignment like this, I always wait until the very last minute because I guess I’m afraid of the future. I’m afraid of what is going to happen four years from now and I’m afraid that I wont remember any of the people that I’m going to mention or I will remember then but I wont talk to them anymore. I really try hard not to be afraid of change but it’s so hard because everything happens so fast and most of the time there’s nothing I can do about it.
Like this year. It has been such an up and down year and I have felt so many things and I have been so afraid of not being able to make it and then finally I have been so happy to be alive. Before this year I cannot ever remember crying tears of joy but I did it, and I looked like an idiot, crying tears of joy in my car.
I hope that four years from now I still read as much as I do now. I hope that I never lose the wonder of diving into a book and not coming out for days and days. But mostly, I hope that I still write. Right now, I find such wonder in words and letters and sentences so much that the feeling of a pen or a pencil in my hand is like home. I don’t know what I would do with my life if I didn’t have my poetry. College will give me many opportunities to make my performance skills better too, and I hope that I still talk to Mr. Simmons enough to invite him to my performances and have him feel less awkward about coming.
I have to keep in touch with Mr. Simmons. Not just because he is the poetry club person, but because he gave me the motivation to keep my pen in my hand even when I thought that I couldn’t do it anymore. And sometimes, it made me really really really mad. But I did it anyway because writing is like a drug and without it you can seriously injure yourself. But with it you can save yourself from more things than just yourself.
I really hope that in four years I still know who my friends are: I mean like my real friends, not just the ones that I ask for help on homework or gossip with.
I must mention Jonathan. Its kind of funny, because at this time last year Jonathan and I had just been together for a month, and now looking back so much seems to have changed, when really, nothing did at all. Jonathan and I went from never talking to each other outside of school to being practically attached at the hip, and now I feel stronger for him than I ever thought I’d be able to feel about a person. The bond that we have is a special one, and I cannot imagine a day without telling him everything that happened or sharing a laugh. He talks about forever, about spending one hundred years together, and as much as I’d like to believe him, I hope that I don’t let him get in the way of my dreams. I want to experience everything, I want to see the world, and I want to share it with him. And then, when I’m ready to settle down, if it’s with him, then that will be good. But if its not, well, that will be good too. I’ve never been the kind of person to plan my life around a guy, and I don’t plan to be that person anytime soon. But I know that I love Jonathan more than I knew a person was capable to love. And I am lucky to have experienced that love. To be experiencing that love. And as much as I would like to be sitting next to him reading him this letter in four years, I will not say that it is definite. I might be, but like I said, if its not, that will be okay also.
I’m not going to lie and pretend that I am thrilled to be leaving high school. I mean, I’m proud that I did it, and I’m relieved that I don’t have any more work to do, but I’m going to miss the structure and seeing everyone every day. Mostly, I’m going to miss lunches with Mr. Simmons and Mrs. Corlies’ seamless transitions from one point to another (hopefully I will learn that skill myself!) and sitting in the grass and reading poetry with Mac and just sharing moments that seemed so meaningless but were so full of sustenance with so many people that I care about more than I will ever admit.
I’ve never been very good at the whole run-on sentence thing. I mean, I write them like its my job. It’s the one thing that anyone would find in reading any of my papers from however old we were when we started writing to now. Run-on sentences are my thing. It’s because I just write the way that my brain tells me to and sometimes that results in a run-on sentence. or a fragment. But I’m rambling again.
I could try to search my mind for a last word of wisdom, but the only thing that I would find is a pun or a joke that no one but me will think is funny. That tends to happen a lot. Not that I mind or anything. I love every second of it.
The point of the matter is that the most important thing that I learned this year is that it’s okay to make mistakes and admit it. It’s okay to write the occasional run-on sentence and it’s okay to realize that I’m alive after sleepwalking for so long. Have fun with life. It’s a good thing.