Dear Abigail,
I'm fully aware that most people our age are allergic to the concept of a written letter but I'm really beginning to worry about the effect all this constant screentime is having on us. I mean, it certainly tanked your grades last year didn't it? I've removed all the unnecessary fat from my phone, not that I could text or call you if I wanted to, the runaway you are. I'm not even sure that this address is accurate but I thought I'd pen the letter anyway, it might be cathartic for me if nothing else.
To start, don't worry. I'm not going to try and lecture you for the hundredth time on how you can still come back home and find a college that will have you, I don't know if any would and besides, you've made your choices and as your twin I'll have to respect that. It's rather lonely here without you, though. As for myself, I've been enjoying a taste of personal hell in this college course I joined. The grade requirements are shockingly low but I suspect most of these girls are only here for the first few years. I'm going to stick through for PhD of course, you know me. It's actually a little disquieting to imagine any of my fellow course mates holding even a bachelor's in psychology when they have about the brainpower of a fourth grade schoolbus between them.
I digress. I love you Abigail, please don't stay a stranger forever. Just as I'm sure you aren't worried about me, I'll try to do my best and not worry over yourself.
Very sincerely,
Annabelle
* * *
Dear Abigail,
Having received no response after months of biting my nails in wait, I can assume that you're either not receiving these letters or simply choosing to ignore them. I've decided to continue writing in any case, as I suggested in the previous letter it does make me feel somewhat relieved to imagine you well enough to play petty, so I'll choose to believe you're simply mad at me. Or embarrassed, though if that's the case then don't be. A part of me is jealous of you having the freedom to go wherever you please even if I'm sure it isn't easy. If I do learn that you're on the streets, however, I'll curse that stubbornness of yours until my dying breath.
College is going well, as well as such an entry level feeling class can at the very least. I'm sort of regretting not trying to start higher like those gifted kids you see on television who skip grades and such. It's not like I've the cockiness to aim for masters degree in my first year, but something more engaging that these dull lectures. I've usually already memorised everything from textbook days in advance, but there's an attendance grade. It's not all bad, I suppose, I do get to whittle the time away watching boorish peers struggle on the simplest of concepts. I could not tell you what the overly cliquey group of blondes currently seated to my left as I write this intends to get out of learning psychology, but I'm guessing they figured it an easy degree like how aimless guys tend to take business studies.
Our baseline exams are coming up very soon. I must still think myself student council president like we never escaped high school, because I've gone and proposed a shared study group in the library this afternoon. To be blunt, I was expecting to meet indifferent half smiles and have the table to myself to read at my own leisure. The last thing I expected was that golden haired gaggle to perk up and flock around me like ducks begging for bread (Remember the duckpond? It's actually bad to feed them, so you'll have to apologise to them when you come home.) Anyway, their eyes lit up and it has made me a little more hopeful that they at least give one shit about this course, even if I don't honestly give two about tutoring them. If anybody were to sign up I was hoping for some of the guys near the front, I've not had a boyfriend since becoming class representative all those years ago and my body has needs! Could have been a decent 'meetcute', Abigail, but instead I get the pleasure of carrying these vapid bitches through their first year of higher education. I'm ecstatic.
Sarcasm aside, I should probably give these girls the benefit of the doubt rather than venting over them in a letter to my elusive sister. I wonder if my problems seem so insignificant to you or if it's the opposite and you're living the high life. I'm not sure which I'd prefer, competitive as I am. Stay safe in any case.
Very Sincerely,
Annabelle
* * *
Dear Abigail,
I am writing this a few days after hosting the first study session I mentioned in my previous letter. Gosh, almost a week later, even. I suppose this past week has been something of a blur, embarrassment yet to leave my rosy cheeks. I should explain, the study group that showed was curiously made up of only those girls I've admittedly been too harsh on. They're actually quite nice, I wonder if I was simply jealous of their carefree attitudes when I'm always so uptight. You can consider the ice wholly broken now, somehow my glasses had gone missing from my bag and so when time came to read I endured the strain to save me from humiliation. It must have been a little too obvious I was struggling. One of the girls did crack a joke about me having trouble reading 'such a complicated text' and I had to hold back laughter, this textbook was something I could have fully annotated in high school. Even so, they were rather kind in the end and offered to read aloud. The group's 'leader' of sorts, Maxine I think her name is, has a pleasant voice at least. With that face in addition, she could be an idol, no wonder a plain bookworm like me was secretly so antagonistic. God, I've half the mind to strike that out or start a new letter. Since when did I write like such a teenager?
Moving along swiftly, we're planning on meeting up again in the library tomorrow for further study. I almost bought a new pair of glasses but they found their way back to me in such a way that suggests I'd been pranked. No doubt the guys near the front, I think I misjudged them. Maxine suggested that they're the sort to play practical jokes on the shy ones and I scoffed. They think I'm shy?
Maybe if they think I'm so shy, I should correct them on this before tomorrow's lectures. It should be something fun to talk about during study group even if it doesn't turn too many heads. My phone has far too many notifications, I was hasty in my embarrassment the other week and shared my number and socials with those blondes and now they want to me to sacrifice my free time reading such idle gossip. Still, maybe I'll call Maxine and ask her what colour I should dye my hair. Not too shy and mousy now, am I?
Sincerely,
Annabelle
* * *
Dear Abigale,
That's two study
sesh
sessions down, only one before the baseline assessment rolls in. I'm less confident than I should be, even though I've aced every test since I was little I always get the jitters. It's good, probably. Better than whatever you filled your time with in desperate procrastination right until very last minute, right? As I sit here writing this, blonde hair decorates my peripheral vision and I'm still not entirely sure what possessed me to take such drastic action. Still, it went down very well and so I don't really regret the impulsive and
uncaracteristic