I’ve just been rifling through my old journals and letters as I like to do occasionally, and the things I’ve found hurt my heart and make me infinitely grateful I managed to not be gen Y. We started emailing in highschool, I guess, but letters predominated. Hundreds, thousands of letters from the breaking, devastated heart to the boredom of English Lit.
If these had been emails they would be gone by now, I suppose.
There are many, many letters from the boyfriend I had when I was 16. Not as romantic as I remember – more long, annotated lists of mixed tape playlists. Also:
I hope you aren’t TOO angry at me, but I showed part of your letter to my best friend “Nick”. He’s sort of an analyst and he was pissed off that you wrote nothing’s serious at 16. He said “16 is the most serious age!!! Nothing is more serious!”
Wherever you are, “Nick”, if that’s even your real name, I AGREE! A woman ten years older than me was the one who planted the idea that I was only 16 and shouldn’t take our relationship drama too seriously. For anyone out there dispensing advice for same, heed our analyst “Nick”. I think his vehement defence of teens everywhere proves that there’s nothing “sort-of” about him.