3:52 p.m. - December 14, 2001
letter from the freshman time capsule
True to my word, I have posted the letter I wrote to my senior self when I was a freshman in high school. Although it goes against every instinct I have, I didn't edit it at all. At the end you will find notations that I added today.

This is just me, at the end of my freshman year. There's nothing too meaningful to write, as nothing special in particular happens to me. Nothing that I am going to write and put in a time capsule, anyway. Some things are better fit to my diary.
I wonder if I'll have the same friends when I read this senior year? I wonder if I'll have finally figured out how to be social, how to be friendly, how to be liked? I hope so. Not that I'm so terrible now. But I could definitely be improved.
How about Wes? Will I know him? How will we survive our 'going out' or whatever we can call it, being 60 miles away? Will we survive it?
And Camille? All of our plans for a road trip, senior ditch days, etc. We're drfting, but that always happens; it never lasts. I think we're both suffering from a little depression. Summer will bring better times.
Erik and I are through as friends, I think. But I still wonder what he'll be like as a senior; quiet, dreamy Erik has to learn to speak up sometime, or he won't survive. I wonder if he'll change? In a way I hope he doesn't. He's so special when he's not being a jerk.
When I read this, Aubrey will be long gone. Graduated and off to college when I'm just a sophomore. Am I ever going to get over him? He's such a mystery. Long curly gold hair flying, eyes so guarded, so committed to his music. He'd give so much for it. But e wouldn't give much for anything else. I don't think. He's got so much to care for, but he won't let anyone near. I wonder if, by the time I read this, I'll have broken through?
And I doubt I'll drop out of school or run away or do anything dangerous, because I'm just too cautious. And anxious. My anxiety, will it ever cease? Will I ever be able to relax, be able to go places without the pounding fear and nausea? Will I ever be able to go to sleep at night without the dull ache in my stomach? I don't know how I'll make it to senior year if it is still going on. Of couse, if I'm reading this, then I must have made it. I hope so.
All right, so there's all these open-ended dilemmas and people with which I'm living. And I'm asking myself now, have they been solved? Maybe, but then I know I'll have just as many new ones then.
Hannah, are you going to college? If so, where? Hve you overcome your anxiety? What's your GPA? Have you learned not to blow off homework, and studying, and class? What's your major in college? Have you ever been kissed? Fallen in love? Somehow become pretty? Ever felt completely secure in someone's arms? Most importantly, have you become, I mean, do you consider yourself, happy? Truly happy? Felt that life completely is worth it, praising the past, looking forward to the future, and living the present with a smile? It's my dream now, I hope I can live it soon. Living that.. man, that must be what it's lke to be on a high. Of course you can't be happy all the time. You need sadness to balance it out. But right now I have too much.. sadness, I mean.. it's not balanced.
I want it balanced. I want to solve things. I want answers. Hannah, are you living my dreams now?

paragraph 2: 'I wonder if I'll have the same friends when I read this senior year?'
Some of them. I haven't lost any. I've gained some. The kind of relationships I have and want to have has changed.
'I wonder if I'll have finally figured out how to be social, how to be friendly, how to be liked?'
I always knew how to be social and friendly, I've just learned how to do it without annoying people or scaring them away, and I've also picked up quite a bit on how to use it to manipulate people and be a cold-hearted bitch... oh well. I try not to, though.

paragraph 3: 'How about Wes? Will I know him? How will we survive our 'going out' or whatever we can call it, being 60 miles away? Will we survive it?'
It's much more than 60 miles now; he has since moved to another state. And we broke up about three months after I wrote it. It wasn't the distance so much as the religious issues we had with each other. I couldn't be the one for him without believing in God, and he couldn't be the one for me if God was so important to him. I still know him.. vaguely. We speak online once every few months, but we never have anything to say to each other.

paragraph 4: 'We're drfting, but that always happens; it never lasts. I think we're both suffering from a little depression.'
Yes, we were. And yes, we do drift. But no, it never lasts. We have our dry spells, but that's what keeps us sane. Our friendship is one of the few things in my life that I don't have any desire to change.

paragraph 5: 'Erik and I are through as friends, I think.'
No.
'But I still wonder what he'll be like as a senior; quiet, dreamy Erik has to learn to speak up sometime, or he won't survive. I wonder if he'll change?'
I don't know if I'd describe him now as 'quiet' or 'dreamy', but I also don't think he's changed all that much, aside from the branching out and meeting people part. I've grown to understand him better and accept him the way he is.

paragraph 6: 'Am I ever going to get over him? He's such a mystery.'
I got over him eventually, but not until he graduated. I still think about him once in awhile, wonder how he is..
'Long curly gold hair flying, eyes so guarded, so committed to his music. He'd give so much for it. But e wouldn't give much for anything else. I don't think. He's got so much to care for, but he won't let anyone near. I wonder if, by the time I read this, I'll have broken through?'
First of all, gag. I know, and what's more, I didn't know him well enough to really say any of this. He was a stranger in the hall. I mean, I'd spoken to him a few times, but really, he was just an intriguing stranger. I never broke through. He lost his sensitive shell and became somewhat of a pretentious asshole his senior year; it made me stay farther away. He did have lapses of sweetness, though.

paragraph 7: 'What about me? I don't think I'll ever get into drugs or anything, 'cause I'm just not that type.'
Well, I've done pot a couple of times. I wouldn't exactly call that getting 'into' drugs. Although, what is up with the 'type'?
'Will I ever be able to relax, be able to go places without the pounding fear and nausea? Will I ever be able to go to sleep at night without the dull ache in my stomach?'
Yes. Meds do work wonders, you know. Shortly after I wrote that, I knew the wonders of Paxil. I just stopped Paxil this last September, and have still felt fine. Really, I should be grateful. I forgot how much I appreciated my mental health.

paragraph 8: 'Hannah, are you going to college? If so, where? Hve you overcome your anxiety? What's your GPA? Have you learned not to blow off homework, and studying, and class? What's your major in college?'
In order: hopefully, I have no fucking clue, mostly, 3.4, no I have not and nor do I care to, and music.
'Have you ever been kissed? Fallen in love? Somehow become pretty? Ever felt completely secure in someone's arms?' Yes, no, no, and no. Dammit.
'Most importantly, have you become, I mean, do you consider yourself, happy? Truly happy?'
Yeah, I guess I do. Not exciting really, but happy. Content, is a better word for it.
'Living that.. man, that must be what it's lke to be on a high.'
No, dear, you're wrong. That's exhilaration. I have none of that. I have stagnancy. Contentedness, but stagnancy nonetheless. Don't mistake the two.

By the way, I'm not going to grace the 'Hannah, are you living my dreams now?' with any sort of answer. I added that for effect, I know I did. It screams 'effect'.
I answered this as seriously as I could, given the raging sentimentality and overclichedness of the whole thing. Therefore; bah. And now I'm embarrassed.

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