Kat,

You wrote yourself a letter on the second day of your freshman year, along with every other member of the great class of 2008. The letter wasn't great, but don't worry, it wasn't embarrassing either. You were scared then, of change, of not making any friends, of showing anyone that you were scared. If I could give you this letter in time, I would be able to comfort you.

You rightly point out that you, Sept. 21, 2004 Kat, don't have any friends at Stanford. This is true. What you don't know is that you've already met the person who will become your most valued friend<\p>--<\p>you think she hates you, but I swear she doesn't. Over the next four years, you will love her with a fierceness and loyalty that will come closer to approaching greatness than anything else you have ever been a part of. At the end of senior year, you will have a medical emergency (learn what Wikipedia is and look up "spontaneous pneumothorax" so you're not so scared this time) and spend a terrifying ten-minute car ride convinced that you are going to die before you have reached adulthood. During this car ride, reflecting on your relationship with her will bring you comfort that you have lived a full life.

Also, don't try to befriend her by complimenting her Aqua ring tone. She will still make fun of this four years later, when the two of you co-host swanky parties with your exquisite group of friends.

The driver of the car you thought you were dying in will be someone you haven't met yet, a boy. (Yes, he's Jewish, don't worry.) Treat him well. While the doctors are gathering around and you are weeping in the ER, you will realize that ten minutes laying in bed with him, talking or not talking, means more to you than all the great books you have ever read. (But don't worry, pretentious little schmuck, by the time you are 21 you will have read a number of great books, and not just lied about it to impress people.)

Within his love, you will bloom and mature<\p>--<\p>you will stop being so defensive and mock-brassy all the time, and will be comfortable with your insecurities. This will make you less insecure.

You were afraid, when you wrote your letter, that you would one day forget how wonderful your childhood was, and how much you love your parents. It's okay, Kat. You will only grow closer to them. Just pick up their damn phone calls once in a while in the coming months, okay? They are worried about you and they are not going to judge you. They will be there when you do something incredibly stupid in a few months, and they will support you without making you feel weak. Trust your mother's advice, about boys and jobs and clothes. This will save you some heartache.

You think you're in love now, and are pretending to be casual about it. This is not really love. It's okay, it won't break you even though for a long time you will feel broken. Eventually you will be thankful that he was the one who got you to come to Stanford. Do not send him drunk text messages, Kat. Just do not.

You're doing well, man. You have just started what in four years you will regard as the best period of your life. You will have made friends, had advisors and succeeded in projects that are outside the scope of your vision right now. Be brave. I have faith in you.

Kat

PS: Quit smoking, dumbass.