Ten-Year Letter

My ten-year high school reunion was a few weeks ago. I didn't attend, but I have to admit to a little morbid fascination with it. Most of my close friends from back then are actually still my close friends, and I'm in touch with a few other people that I knew, but there are others I think about from time to time... I suppose this is all just another symptom of my preoccupation with the past, and with how we connect with others. I frequently find myself wondering what's become of friends whose lives are no longer in the same place as mine.

On the last day of my senior year, my English teacher had each person in my class write a letter, a letter that would be sent to us in ten years, a chance to talk about where we were coming from and to speculate as to where we would be. A few months ago, I remembered that my letter was coming, but couldn't remember at all what I'd written. It was with a mixture of curiosity and dread that I received it a few days ago.

Surprisingly enough, there's nothing in it that I can really bring myself to be embarrassed about. In some ways, perhaps I've changed quite a bit in the last ten years, but the same things are still important to me. The letter is brief, but the things I was concerned with then are still with me. They're things that I don't think I'll ever entirely feel at peace with. This is how it ends:

"My name is Harry. I'm pretty lazy, but I've got big dreams. I like sad songs and walking in the rain and talking late. I get big dumb crushes and enjoy them for what they are, most of the time. I don't live enough. When I say I love my friends, I mean it. I would rather hug someone than shake their hand. Sometimes I feel incredibly lonely, but everyone does. The thing that frightens me the most is the idea that life means nothing. I want my time to count for something."