With love, from me to me

Yesterday I received a letter in the mail addressed to Clara "Fancy Pants" Morris. I was naturally suspicious. At the time I was wearing sweatpants. I mean, these sweatpants did have pockets, so maybe they could be considered fancy, but I knew it was a bit of a stretch. Even more mysterious was the fact that my name and address were written in handwriting strikingly similar to my own. Could this be an exploding letter from one of my enemies who mastered the imitation of both my handwriting and my wont of making up middle names? I looked at the return address and saw that it was from my 12th grade English teacher. Could she be such an enemy? After a moment of scowling at the envelope, I was graced with a slight memory of making some sort of time capsule for an assignment in 12th grade English.

I zealously ripped the letter open and confirmed my brief remembrance. This letter has allowed me to see in which ways I've grown, matured, stayed the same and not lived up to my own expectations during the past four years. Let's take a look:

My dearest Clara,

This is a letter from you to you, written for points in 12th grade AP English. As I write this I am sure future-me (present you) will remember the motivation behind every idea in this letter, every brilliant idea. (Throwing in the word "brilliant" there was a joke in case you don't remember, MORON. … that was a joke too … I love you). I realize that you might not actually remember writing this letter, but I find that weird and unsettling. It's only been four years.

I think I should point out that the only reason I am typing this, rather than handwriting it, is because I want all the words to be spelled correctly.

I couldn't think of a funny way to start the letter, so don't read the "my dearest Clara" and think to yourself, "God, I sure thought I was funny back then, but man, who was I kidding." Don't do that future-me, because I am funny. Don't judge me, greetings are hard.

You going to a prestigious grad school just like you planned? If not I guess this adds insult to injury, eh?

Did you think the references to "future-me" in the above paragraphs were funny? Cuz you did when you wrote it. Oh how you laughed. How I laughed. Um. How … we? laughed?



I love you so much,

Clara Morris, 1985-2008

(Ominous music)



My favorite aspect of this letter is how the bulk of it is simply my high school-self insecurely trying to prove to my future-self that I was actually funny.

In many ways, I have not really changed since age 18. For example, one of my first reactions upon finishing reading the letter was an overwhelming fear that I was a funnier writer back in 12th grade. I guess insecurities are long-lived. Oh, and I'm still a poor speller.

Some of the letter's defensiveness was warranted. When first reading the salutation, I did find "my dearest Clara" a bit weak in the humor department. It's not that I don't consider myself the dearest; it's just not laugh-out-loud funny. So, my initial reaction was a palpable panic that I made bad jokes throughout high school, convinced myself they were funny and continued that trend into the present day. Imagine my delight when I read the paragraph explaining that I settled on the greeting simply out of laziness and lack of effort! That's something I'll always be proud of.

There was one other part of the letter that filled me with a very tangible fear. 1985-2008. Really, past-me, that doesn't seem too aggressive? Is that really the sort of mean joke you thought I would be able to handle? Did you think I would be braver four years down the road? Because I am not, and I am pretty much convinced I'm going to be looking over my shoulder and having nightmares until 2009.

So, four years after writing this letter, I find myself not attending the prestigious grad school I challenged myself to as an 18-year-old. Instead I'm doing nothing and occasionally trying to be funny. But something tells me past-Clara wouldn't be too disappointed.