Because I Love You

Bill Cotter
Associate Editor

This is my first time being a Senior, and so far I’d have to discourage it.

In fact, I probably shouldn’t be writing this now at all. Ask me in ten years, and I’ll smile and tell you about the time I called down every single member of Mr. Feldman’s history class over the announcements—or the time Mr. Moore chalked the floor and did the moonwalk—or the time I was “tortured” in the Academy library boiler room for the sake of a short film. Right now, though, it’s difficult to glean much happiness out of these not-too-distant memories. And when they do make me smile, it’s a sad, longing, almost ironic smile that really shouldn’t even be called a smile in the first place. I want to be a Junior again. I want to be seven again. I want to be again.

I’m a mess and I don’t want to write to you from my currently addled state of mind. Because I love you, but that’s really hard to see right now. So let’s go on a hike or out to lunch this summer, and maybe everything will be okay, and maybe I’ll start to like you more again and maybe I’ll start to like myself more again. But for now, I’m going to write this letter from the future, from a Bill that is happy like he was before. Here it is:

Dear you,

It’s strange to look back and witness the transformation that took place between the beginning of Middle School and the end of High School. I specifically remember Mr. Michalko, my favorite, commenting on my “new sense of humor,” something that was just starting to develop. In Middle School, I was a neurotic perfectionist, shy outside of my closest friends, but relatively comfortable with this reality. Somewhere in High School, and I really don’t know how or why it happened, I became much more extroverted – and in the process my ability to focus on schoolwork slowly diminished. Looking back now, I remember feeling at the end of Senior year as if I had lost a vital chunk of my personality: the naivety, the work ethic, the ability to content myself sans human interaction.

It took a long time to get back to a point where I was comfortable with myself again, where I felt as natural in my shoes as I did up through Junior year. But I know that it would have taken much longer had it not been for the support of my family, my friends, and my teachers. It’s been a while since I last saw most of you—a fact that really gets me down when I think about it—but I am just as grateful to have known you now as I ever was. Friends come and friends go, I have learned, though the best ones stick around forever. Thank you for being in my life for the years that define me even today. And thank you to Jimmy Leppert for still being in my life. Jimmy, you are truly the best butler a man could ever ask for.

Thank you for accepting me, faults and all. Thank you for the aviator sunglasses and the zebra scarf and the memories. When it comes down to it, really, it’s all about the memories. And there’s so many amazing ones to choose from, and so many I have no doubt forgotten along the way but nevertheless know exist.

So thank you for being there for me—before, during, and after High School. I needed you, and you were there, and I will forever remember.

So long and thanks for all the fish,

Bill

P.S. Please do not ever let “That’s what she said” die. Every time I say it these days my kids look at me like I have three heads.