Dear Heff,

I been counting down the days where I can tell you this stuff in person and I know everyone else wants to as well, but Corona has gotten in the way of us hanging with eachother, so I guess I gotta write to you now.

We’re proud of you. Genuinely. And I swear I’m not playing with you. The amount of maturity you’ve shown from the end of senior year to now is sometimes scary to me. You’re a completely different person in that way. I know how hard it probably was to get out of Kansas and realize it wasn’t a good place for you, but I know plenty of other people that wouldn’t have had the balls to do what you did. What you’re doing now at Dutchess and soon to be at Baruch is completely right for you, and that is all that matters.

I’m really glad you were able to come up with Kirby and come visit Tom and I at Delaware, but I’m most glad that we got to have some deep conversation the first night together. I’m sorry you never got to open up about your Dad and his cancer really, or to talk about pressure you felt from everybody for leaving school, or why you acted up in high school the way that you did. You truly are the Dennis Rodman of North Salem, misunderstood in every way possible. No matter how people look at you, I along with all the boys will always know the real you. You’re the funniest person I will ever meet, you always speak the truth, and you would do anything for any one of us, and I hope you know we would do the same for you. I’m so pumped for the new apartment in Philly and all the new stuff going on in your life, and I can’t wait to pump out some more pyramid schemes with you.

All love,

Stacks