To the Shadow of a Stranger's Ghost,
Reference to a movie you may or may not yet have seen, once you watch it you'll get the reference. For good or ill this line stays with you.
I've avoided writing this letter for a while, not only due to a visceral disgust for fads but because any time anyone asked what I would say to you the answer has always been "Get your shit together." The phrase stands, and don't worry, you do get your shit together. Remarkably so. The only reason I'm writing this now is because my therapist asks after you quite a bit and it occurred to me that I don't think of you very much at all, so maybe it's time to bite the bullet and review some sordid history, eh?
Memories can be, after all, vile.
I won't insult you with hallow platitudes about how everything gets better, though it very well might. I haven't decided if things got better or you just ponied up to the challenge. Indeed, depending on when you read this you may be too busy infatuated with the third person that week, drowning in depression, or actually getting your shit together. In which cases get ready to hit a proverbial brick wall, keep treading water, or carry on respectively.
A continued penchant for verbosity and inside jokes aside, you'll notice a familiar, critical tone though vastly less vitriolic. You're welcome.
I don't like forcing these talks anymore than you do and truth be told, I still have scarcely more to tell you than to keep on truckin'. These letters usually impart some wisdom so allow me to share with you some candid and redundant observations that you obviously can't retroactively apply:
Out of the hundred plus people we graduate with you'll only stay in touch with two, and barely at that.
Those two relationships you're losing your shit over? Absolute train wrecks that only serve to teach you not to put your hand on the proverbial stove again. Trust me.
Becoming involved with theater is one of the only good choices you make during this four year period. Don't ever give it up, regardless of how much of a pain scheduling becomes.
You know what?
I lied when I said I didn't have much else to say.
I have to thank you.
I have to thank you for enduring the disappointment of some bad semester, because I needed that kick in the ass to get my shit together.
I have to thank you for gathering the courage to get up on stage, because otherwise I wouldn't be able to address a rapt audience at symposiums or conferences.
I have to thank you for going through a pretty terrible depression, after that most challenges have paled in comparison.
I have to thank you for putting in the effort to have a good relationship with mom, she and I are pretty tight now.
Most of all I have to thank you for fucking up stupendously when the stakes were relatively low, now I won't make the same mistakes given the higher stakes at play.
Well, it's been real. I won't say it was fun, because it wasn't. But it was necessary. Let's never do it again.
Regards,
What to you must seem like the shadow of another stranger's ghost.
