Dear Rachel (you had not officially become Mean Rachel -- I think it was a working title),
So you're supposed to graduate high school in two years but not before you take the requisite six elective classes that you have left.
You definitely have got this figured out, at least this high school bullshit. Go for it, graduate in three years. Get out while you still have a soul.
Your decision to pursue your dreams will be one of the best things you ever do.
Opus will be dead this time next year. Give him an extra carrot. But you already did that anyway.
You're too young to vote, but yet you're taking the senior Government class. Your teacher regards you with a curious air when you tell him you cannot fulfill the homework assignment on November 4th because you are sixteen. Ignore him. He'll forget about it the morning of the 5th.
Gas is about $1.50 a gallon. Praise God, Buddha and Allah.
Wear less flannel.
You're right, you absolutely do not want to join the military.
College will become unimportant someday.
So will anything involving a grade.
Yes, someday your sister will actually become a doctor. Oddly, it will happen in the same amount of time it will take the President to fuck up the country.
You should have gone to Spain, even if you hated the concept of going with people from your school.
At some point, you get to stop fighting every person you meet about your plans after high school.
You will never forget the joy of riding horses for the fun of it, even after it ceases to be something you do for fun.
The government will fail you and let you down and disappoint you, but that doesn't mean you can't make it better.
See you in eight years,