Dearest Chloe,
I write to you with a great deal of concern for your well-being and happiness. When I first heard you were planning to enroll and live on campus this semester, the weeds of worry germinated in my heart, and now, I’m afraid they’ve completely taken over. It must be so wearisome, living in Branford with all of those friends around you! To think that you are trapped in some kind of “bubble” with your “best friends in the whole world!” How suffocating! I shudder to think of the melancholy you must be experiencing.
Much of this worry stems from my relative happiness, you see. I’m living at home in Kansas, and can’t possibly imagine trading the delightful company of my younger brothers for “people my age.” The Midwest is famed for its unparalleled winter weather, and this February has more than exceeded my expectations. It’s so blissfully gray and cold, and when it’s thirty-three degrees and sleeting while I trudge through duck manure, I can’t help but picture you and our friends frolicking under Harkness tower in all of that disgusting powder-white snow. How miserable it must be.
I do hope that you’re not feeling too directionless as you earn credits towards your bachelor’s degree. The clear-cut path that college offers can be nonetheless confusing; I, for one, am taking a gap year and working an internship entirely unrelated to my college major, which has provided me a great deal of comfort and security in my future. But don’t envy me—I’m sure that you will find your way somehow.
Don’t let me lord it over you too much, dear friend. If you fear missing out, you can always come visit me.
With concern,
Hilary
Dearest Chloe,
I write to you with a great deal of concern for your well-being and happiness. When I first heard you were planning to enroll and live on campus this semester, the weeds of worry germinated in my heart, and now, I’m afraid they’ve completely taken over. It must be so wearisome, living in Branford with all of those friends around you! To think that you are trapped in some kind of “bubble” with your “best friends in the whole world!” How suffocating! I shudder to think of the melancholy you must be experiencing.
Much of this worry stems from my relative happiness, you see. I’m living at home in Kansas, and can’t possibly imagine trading the delightful company of my younger brothers for “people my age.” The Midwest is famed for its unparalleled winter weather, and this February has more than exceeded my expectations. It’s so blissfully gray and cold, and when it’s thirty-three degrees and sleeting while I trudge through duck manure, I can’t help but picture you and our friends frolicking under Harkness tower in all of that disgusting powder-white snow. How miserable it must be.
I do hope that you’re not feeling too directionless as you earn credits towards your bachelor’s degree. The clear-cut path that college offers can be nonetheless confusing; I, for one, am taking a gap year and working an internship entirely unrelated to my college major, which has provided me a great deal of comfort and security in my future. But don’t envy me—I’m sure that you will find your way somehow.
Don’t let me lord it over you too much, dear friend. If you fear missing out, you can always come visit me.
With concern,
Hilary
