why am i writing i have been drinking for hours Remember to capitalize and punctuate.

Dear Lauren:

In reply to your letter: Yes, you were right. I hate life. Did I hate life back in Los Angeles? To the best of my knowledge, I did. I really thought I did. I didn't have enough money and I was incapable of giving anyone my love in a real capacity. In reply to your letter: No. I don't know exactly what it is I want, but you know that. You knew all along that I would never find out what I want. Did you mean in terms of a career, and my future in terms of work? Well, Lauren, I don't think of my life as work. Life isn't work. You work to live, you don't work and live at the same time. The closest thing I can think of to working and living at the same time is Imagineering. I don't care if you haven't heard of it, look it up. It's all I want, I swear to God. That or making neon, or toys, but I have to weigh my passion and how lucrative it will be and the job market and fiscal blah blah blah with it. My life in terms of life, of living? No, I don't know what I want. I want to be married in five years, and I want to be with someone who loves me in a sincere way, and will do so until I die. So no, I don't know exactly what any of that means, but those are the words that came out, and they work well enough for what I'm trying to say.

What do you mean? Who do you think you are? In case you don't know why I started off this paragraph so angrily, I'll quote you. "What do you want? If you find out, will you still want it?" What is that supposed to mean? Will I just figure out what I want so that I can change it? I'd like to think that I haven't built up such a reputation for flightiness. I'm not scared of commitment to anything. We're not talking about relationships here, at least I'm not. I honestly wish I would have figured out what I wanted out of high school, I would be there by now-- or at least a good part of the way there. I've kept a blank slate, and I assure you that it has been intentional. I am consistently making mistakes and going back on my word. A suitable career must be found, then I'll make my first step. I have to find something I'm good at, but there's no money in upsetting people. Not in the ways that I upset people, at least. People meaning boys. Boys meaning you-know-who and what's-his-name, and everyone I have ever met.

What is it you want? What makes you so sure that going to college is the right thing for you to be doing, huh? Excuse my italicization, but it would serve you well to imagine that I'm there, pointing a finger at you and italicizing right in your face. What if you decide that you don't want to do math forever? Math can be applied in a lot of different ways, and it never changes, so you got lucky there. But is math your passion? Are you learning to work, working to live, living to learn and learning more about your work? I'll stay right here then, at my little desk with little toys on it. I will never hate my life as much as you have to pretend to enjoy yours, for the sake of your parents and tuition and employers. I don't mean to go all anarcho-punk on you, but your life doesn't seem very fulfilling to me. Is my life fulfilling? No. It was when I was in Los Angeles, that's for sure. I came out here to get a clerical job, save a lot of money and go back to the place I love with a nice cushion of money to stay afloat on. College is sprinkled in there somewhere, maybe in both parts. Congratulations on graduating soon, by the way. I know I wasn't invited, but don't expect me at the ceremony. It's much too far and I don't want to celebrate your mediocre achievement. Remember when I graduated high school? You were there and my mother was there, but only because she insisted. Why do we celebrate these things? I'm sorry, I'm rambling.

It's always a pleasure to hear from you, although our exchanges always end up with one of us pointing a finger and one of us curled up in the fetal position. I'm glad it was my turn to point, I was getting tired of the secure position of an unborn child in its mother's womb. I don't know how I remained that way for almost a year.

Love,
Annie.