Hannah,

            I tried writing you a letter a while ago. I don’t know why I can’t seem to finish anything anymore. In either case, I’ve started school again and things are very busy. I’m setting my standards a little higher for myself this year—I want to get the type of grades you’d expect; I want to be the type of girl that you would have been.

            But I am very unsympathetic. And I am harsh and often cruel. I am anxious. I am jealous. I am bitter. I am callous. I am so very different that who you would have been. I guess I think that’s okay, though. Sometimes I have to remind myself to be a better person. I have to remind myself to care, because I am unfeeling, Hannah. I am very, very cold.

            I think about death a lot. Whenever I am terrible to someone, I think about them dying. And then I run back, apologetic and depressed. I know I ought to just be benign from the start, but I do not believe I can be so. I think I’ve trained myself to fear other people. I am a four-year-old; I push things around my plate until my mother takes them away.And then I cry, like an infant, I cry.

            Do you remember that girl I told you about? In the last letter, I think, or the one before that. It doesn’t matter, but in any case, she makes me want to be better. Not because I want to impress her or anything, but because she’s so very brave. I guess I really admire the people that don’t change for whoever they’re with; I’m really infatuated with constants. My sister is like that now, too. Lauren is very brave. But you know that already; she’d fought several hundred battles even before you met.

            Coincidently, Lauren called me after midnight on the New Year and asked for my resolutions; I had yet to make any. So I guess I should tell you that this year I’m going to be the type of girl that you would have admired. And I realize you always spoke very highly of people, but I still think you cared for some more than others. You wrote about Nixie once and Ryan before that. And I would very much like to be the type of person someone can say such lovely things about. I would like to be the type of person you would be proud of. 

            I’d also like to stop lying. Please don’t take me lightly,though, because I know that lies are hard to stop, but I’ve become so awfully generous about handing them out. I can’t really understand lies. Sometimes, though, I just hear myself speaking and I can’t shake it, I can’t tell the truth. I guess I am very lucky to be a real girl, but maybe we’d live in a better world if we all had some sort of signal, because at this rate, my nose would be big enough for all my silly stories.

            Beyond that, I don’t really think I had anything vital to write you about today. I just…I miss you. And I mean that; I never have to remind myself about you, Hannah. I think some part of me might always miss you. And I guess that’s okay, I just…I don’t want to be sad anymore. I don’t want these letters to be something they’re not.

            Andrea and I try to focus on the positives when we are upset. So maybe, just for a while, I will try my very best to write out only the good parts. Like the Princess Bride, these will be annotated. I just hope that I still have things to say.   In any case, I shall try my best to be a good girl. And beyond that, I will try to be more honest. So I apologize if these letters become short and far in-between. But like Chobsky’s Charlie, I need to start participating. And I need to be better. For both of us.

            Lindsay

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Posted on January/11/2012
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