Disclaimer: I don't own High School Musical.
A/n: What started out as an attempt to write a new chapter of Yours Sincerely, Vanessa, turned into this one shot. Hope you like it! Review and tell me your thoughts!
Dear Gabriella,
The assignment is simple enough, really.
'Write a letter to yourself ten years from now. Outline your current interests and hobbies, as well as your hopes and aspirations for the future. In true East High tradition letters will be kept safe, and unopened, to be handed back to East High class of 2008 graduates at the ten year reunion in 2018.
This assignment is not mandatory, nor will it be graded.'
So I'm meant to write you a letter.
Or rather…write me a letter.
Or…write whoever the person I become in the future a letter.
Simple.
Just another assignment right?
That's one of my interest's there for you, future Gabriella.
Assignments.
I get this little thrill, this feeling of exhilaration from completing a piece of MY own work, in MY time, free of the constraints and distractions of a noisy classroom.
I know what you're thinking.
Weirdo.
But hey…it takes one to know one.
I'm extremely uncomfortable with this assignment. I mean, first of all…we're not being graded. It's not even compulsory. We just hand the letter to Miss Darbus and wait for ten years at which point we open the letters, and in my case, probably go through and correct any spelling and grammatical errors.
It truly is a ridiculous idea.
To 'open up' to yourself.
To share your feelings with yourself.
And not even being graded for it.
It bothers me so much that I'm frankly considering handing in an empty envelope. After all, since it isn't being read or graded by anyone but you/me in ten years…who would ever know?
That's the problem though.
I would know.
Even the THOUGHT of not completing a school assignment, even a non compulsory one, makes me feel queasy.
Princeton, Harvard, Yale, NYU…if one of my dream schools happens to have a moment of temporary insanity and ACTUALLY accepts me, they'll look at my school records and be none the wiser. But for the rest of my life, I would have to live with the guilt.
Also…
I don't want an empty envelope to represent the past, high school, supposedly the 'best years of my life'…
Because I mean, while my…your…our life has definitely had its up and downs, it's been far from empty.
I want to open an envelope ten years from now and find a letter that highlights the highs, the lows, the lessons learned, the regrets, and the little moments that meant everything…
I want a letter that tells the tale of my adolescence, my journey, on the way to becoming the person holding this letter right now, you.
I think that's what life is about really, growing as a person.
So no matter how ridiculous I find the notion of a grade-less, voluntary assignment…
I'm going to write you this letter, and I'm going to do my best to make sure it's all those things, and I'm going to open it ten years from now and curse Miss Darbus for not reading and grading it and giving it the A+ both I now and my future self will know it deserved.
I…this isn't going to be easy.
It's always been difficult for me to express how I feel.
I've never been one for diaries either. I think they're a ridiculous, whiney, self-indulgent idea.
I don't want to be reading this ten years from now, and have the future me think,
"Oh wow…was I really that annoying?"
Ok, here goes.
I'm sitting at my desk.
My desktop lamp is on, so as not to damage our eyes.
I'm sitting with my back straight, because there really is no excuse for bad posture. Trust me; you'll thank me for this.
I have the radio tuned to a live classical music performance, because a recent study has shown that classical music helps boost your concentration and productivity by 80.
I mean, knowing my luck, a few years down the track this study will have been proven wrong, but I'm as prepared as I can be to do the assignment to the best of my ability.
Ten years from now.
That's a crazy thought.
I'll be 27. God…27.
I can't even begin to contemplate turning 18 next month, let alone…
27.
I wonder if everyone else is having as much trouble with their letters, or whether they're bothering to write one at all.
God, half the brain dead jocks in the grade probably still wouldn't do it even if it was compulsory.
I don't know why I'm finding this such a challenge; really…I'm making it difficult for myself.
I could just…cop out and simply write,
Dear Gabriella,
Wow, how weird does it feel to read a letter from your past self?
I'm scared about college and my favorite color is currently green.
Well, have a nice life!
Xxoo
Gabriella
It would be so much easier just to write that, stick it in an envelope, seal it and move on to one of the many other assignments that have been piling up…other GRADED assignments…
But I think if I opened a letter from myself ten years from now…and I found that…
I'd be utterly disappointed in myself.
How do I put my life in writing?
My hopes…my dreams…
I don't understand how I'm just meant to sit here and let my feelings flow out…
I guess the fact that I'm so confused that I don't know WHAT I'm feeling can't be helping either…
It's senior year. Everything's changing.
Change…you'd think it wouldn't scare me as much as it does…because that's what my whole life has revolved around…
Change.
Dad dying, every time we've moved, every new school, every new town…
I've just been numb to it, I just accepted change as a part of my life, and so therefore I've never settled anywhere, never even TRIED to form proper friendships knowing full well that they'd get ripped away from me the next time the moving van pulled out of our driveway…
But coming here…this town…this school…East High was different.
It felt like…coming home.
Does that sound stupid future Gabriella?
Ahh well…technically you wrote it.
My point is…no matter how crazy I think this assignment is, and no matter how many highs or lows have come from my time here at East High…I think I will always want to remember these years as the most incredible time of my life, and so I owe it to myself to really try and fit all that emotion, all that history, into this letter.
But that's easier said than done.
The first part of the assignment is designed to focus on my current hobbies and interests. But…I don't think that these are what define me as a person.
I mean, sure I can sit here and tell you that I love frozen yoghurt, that I love getting lost in the imaginary worlds of fantasy novels, or that I cry every time Willy jumps to his freedom in Free Willy, or that math is my favorite subject because numbers just…make sense to me when words can't.
But I don't think that you, reading this letter ten years in the future will read that and truly KNOW me. I don't think anyone could ever truly know me without knowing about the people who helped to shape the person I am today.
My mother is the strongest person I know. I've seen her take hit after hit, only to carry on with her day to day life, a brave smile plastered on her beautiful face, without a single word of complaint or cry for help.
After dad died I completely shut myself off from the world, I became this selfish, angry, emotional wreck of a kid, but not my mom.
I know she was hurting more than anyone could ever contemplate, more than anyone could ever know, but not once did she cry in front of me, in front of anyone. To my face she stayed strong and smiled that brave smile, even though at night she sobbed herself to sleep.
I think that the only thing that pulled me out of the place of grief…this angry, dark, empty world inside myself, was how strong she was, how strong she forced herself to be for me.
The smiles she smiled just for me when her world had crumbled. The words of comfort she whispered in my ear as she held me got me through the toughest time of my life.
It's funny but…I…I think I took her for granted before his death.
She was just always… there, to help me with my homework, or read to me, or put band aids on my many scrapes and bruises, because lets face it, I'm not exactly the most graceful person, and to love me unconditionally.
I mean, sure I loved her and appreciated her, just like any kid would their mom but…
It took a tragedy like this for me to wake up and realize that I had underestimated her strength as a human being, and just how beautiful and strong her soul is.
She makes me want to be better. She makes me appreciate the little things even at the toughest times. One of my biggest regrets in life is that I can't take the dark shadow of hurt and pain that's always in her eyes, even when she's smiling, away.
It's been six years since his death now. Since the day the policeman knocked on the door. I knew, the second I opened the door and he took his hat off, the look on his face told me everything. I started screaming and kicking him and punching him, because I knew that even though he hadn't opened his mouth yet, he had somehow taken my dad, me hero, away from me.
It's been six years, and while a lot of the hurt has faded to the back of my mind, it's still too fresh in my heart to be able to bring myself to write about him.
Maybe ten years from now, I'll be ready emotionally, and YOU can write a letter to your 37 year old self describing how wonderful our father was and how we'll never stop missing him.
But for now I'm just not…I'm not ready.
I'll never forget him, but I'm not ready to remember.
I think I'd break down, and I can't do that to mom. Not now.
Ok…I'm going to move on.
I had never had a best friend before Taylor McHessie. I mean…I've had friends, don't get me wrong…and I've never been a loner…but…
Meeting Taylor was different. She's just this incredible, intelligent…amazing person. She doesn't take any of the crap people might throw her way. She's smart, and she knows it, but she would never belittle anyone because of it. She made it OK for me to enjoy reading more than shopping; she made me feel like I wasn't a freak for choosing Einstein over Orlando Bloom, or whoever the latest magazine pin up is. She has this, incredible fiery temper and she'll never back down in an argument and yet…she's so compassionate. She's everything I want to be as a person, confident, so sure of herself and she…well…she embraced me.
I was new and awkward and stuttering and for weeks I couldn't for the life of me remember my new locker combination. And then on my third day, she just strode up to me in the middle of the hallway and said,
"I'm Taylor McHessie, sit with us at lunch today"
I couldn't have been more grateful for her acceptance. The fact that she took a chance on the quiet, reserved new girl. Because her friendship has just been so pivotal, so vital…so important to me and I owe so much to her and I hope that while you're reading this, ten years from now, she's reading over your shoulder, making fun of your sloppy high school hand writing, still your closest friend in the world.
I think the worst thing about writing this letter is that while with other people, I can put up a front to hide behind, I can't lie to myself.
Because I'm…I'm trying to sit here and pretend that he wasn't an important part of my life, I'm trying to pretend that my time with him wasn't incredible. I'm trying to pretend that every time he kissed me, or held me it didn't mean the world…
Troy Bolton.
I…It's hard to write about our relationship in past tense.
I got so swept up in his smile, his eyes, and the way he made me feel…
I got so comfortable, and felt so safe, so wanted, so loved, that I let my guard down and told myself it was for ever.
It's been almost a month since the end of our relationship now, and it still hasn't gotten any easier to see him walking down the hallways.
I…I don't know what you're going to think looking back on your relationship with him.
Maybe you won't even remember. Maybe you'll read this letter, reminisce, laugh it off and dismiss it as a high school fling.
Or maybe you'll still be regretting my decision.
Argh, ok, I'm getting frustrated and I don't like it. I want to be able to talk about this and be comfortable that I made the right decision, and just be in control.
But…
I've never been in control when it comes to Troy.
I fell for him so hard and so fast, that the first few months of our relationship are a blur…and yet at the same time, all the little moments stick out in my mind.
The first time we talked.
The first time he made me laugh.
The first time he insisted on holding doors open for me.
Our first, awkward, innocent kiss.
The first time he made me feel beautiful.
I don't even know why he ever noticed me. We came from different worlds, his, full of popularity, cheerleaders, dating…mine a world of grief, books, assignments and late night heated monopoly games with the science club.
We were seated next to each other by chance in Math class.
He told me once that he noticed me on my first day, chewing my pencil in concentration, trying to figure out a mathematical equation, he said he'd never seen someone make doing school work seem so sexy, but I still think he only told me that to cover up the fact that the only reason he was staring was to copy the answers from my book.
I don't think I REALLY noticed him for a few weeks, I mean, sure I noticed that he was attractive, you'd have to be blind not to see that but…I think the first time I really SAW him was one afternoon, in class.
One of the girls seated behind me, a cheerleader made a snide remark about me to her friend beside her, something trivial, meaningless... I don't even remember exactly.
I pretended not to hear but Troy turned around and politely told her to back off.
He defended me, the new girl, who he barely knew, aside from idle chit chat like "can I borrow a pencil?" in class, against a member of HIS world, and he did it like it was the most normal thing in the world.
I remember feeling overwhelmed, not knowing what to say, but he just grinned and shrugged it off, like it was no big deal.
He told me he was the luckiest guy in the world for having me in his life.
But to this day I truly believe that I was the lucky one.
God, I don't want to write about this.
I don't want to look at pictures of us.
I don't want to contemplate senior year without him.
I don't want to contemplate life without him.
But I think that if you truly love someone you have to make sacrifices.
The beginning of this year, everybody started getting serious about college, my mom, our teachers, Troy's parents, especially his dad.
Everything just became real.
We really were leaving high school forever.
We really weren't kids anymore.
We really were going out into the big wide scary world on our own.
Troy and I talked about it a lot, what schools we were applying to, what would happen with our relationship, how we would make it work.
And the more we talked, the more adamant Troy became that our relationship came first.
Before basketball scholarships, before anything…
And the more adamant he became about following me to whatever school I got into, the more I realized I couldn't let him do that to himself, to his future…
And just like he planning on sacrificing everything for me…I did the same.
I told him our relationship wasn't working anymore.
I told him that we needed to go our own ways, and that I didn't want to be tied down for college…
He didn't believe me…He knows me too well.
And there was a big fight…and tears on both our parts…and screaming…and yelling…
And now there's this.
There's avoiding eye contact, there's awkwardness, there's jealousy.
Every time I see him want to run up to him and take it all back, tell him I was lying, but then I think of how much I care about him, and how much I want him to succeed, and how I can't even comprehend the notion of him sacrificing his future for me, and I control myself, I bite my lip to stop the tears, and I turn away, unable to look at him anymore.
I still love him. I don't think it's possible to ever fall out of love, really.
He's better off not knowing though.
He's better off, going to a great school, forgetting all about me and having the opportunity to have the future he deserves.
He has done so much for me, helped me so much, when I thought no one could. He's the only one that knows every aspect of me, knows what I'm thinking without me even having to speak, and so I guess…I just have to keep telling my self that it's the right thing.
I just wish the right thing didn't have to hurt so much.
This entire year is scary. As it slowly gets closer and closer to the end, the pressure just builds. Prom, graduation, finals…the pressure just keeps mounting up, but you know what I'm most terrified of?
The Yearbook.
I know this sounds…insane, but…it's just…What you write in someone's senior yearbook… I just don't think this is something that can be taken lightly.
It's a summary of your feelings for them, over the years, it's potentially the last they'll ever hear from you, it's what they'll remember you by.
For some people "Have a nice summer, good luck!" will suffice.
For others, I don't even know where to begin.
Like, Taylor, how do I even begin to describe my friendship with her? What possible combination of words can I use to summarize just how much she means to me?
And Troy…god…I don't know how this works.
Do I write in his?
Does he write in mine?
Do we write something brief, and noncommittal, and pretend our entire relationship meant so much less than it did?
I…It's hard; I know that I made the right decision.
I do.
But…I don't know how after two of the most incredible years of my life, the most intense, amazing relationship, the bond, and the connection we had…I don't if I can just write "good luck".
Stupid huh? But I lie awake at night thinking about this, and it makes me feel queasy to think that a few little words in a high school yearbook can mean everything.
OK, my hopes and aspirations for the future.
I…I guess. I want to be content.
It may sound completely weird, but I don't WANT to be happy. Every time I'm happy, every moment I have that I'm truly happy, I feel this twinge of guilt deep inside.
It's like, for that one moment, I'm forgetting dad, forgetting what mom and I went through, and I feel guilty for NOT being sad, even if it's just for a split second. I feel guilty, and selfish, and I want to get over this, because I know it's irrational, and that I should be able to move on but…for now…I'll settle for being content.
I want to be able to look back and not regret the decisions I've made.
I want Troy to succeed and I want him to be everything I know he can be in his life, and I want him to be able to understand why I did what I did. Maybe one day we're meant to be together…maybe not…but…I want to always remember our relationship. I always want to remember him as the one that saved me.
I want…god…I want Taylor to be the first female African American president of the United States.
I want to go to a good school and succeed in whichever path I take.
I want my mom to smile again, REALLY smile.
I want my dad to be looking down at me proudly…no…I want to give him a REASON to be proud of me.
But most of all ten years from now I want…
I just want to be the Gabriella that my mom, my dad…Taylor…and Troy believe I can be.
I just want to be Gabriella.
Love,
Gabriella.
A/n: Like it? Want to print it and use it as toilet paper because you hated it so much? Either way, please review! They mean the world to me.