Dear Harvard,

You probably don’t want me. I know you won’t miss me, I know there’s currently 325,000 kids who are dreaming of waking up in your pristine dorms, 456,000 kids who are dreaming of the opportunity to say your name when asked where they went to school and over a million females who would love to say that’s where they met their husband, that he’s a lawyer, that-rest assured- the Mercedes they arrived in was no dent in their change purse.
But really I—I just don’t think I would fit. For example, if I were to be a sorority girl I don’t think I could survive on their diet of girl scout cookies and high-class cupcakes, (not to mention the nice dinners their frat boys take them to) and still manage to fit into my clothes, and let’s face it, I can’t afford a new wardrobe and let’s face it number 2, my clothes are, uh, thriftstore brand.

But thank you for the college mail that caused my parents to feel proud of me even though you sent the letter to every kid with a last name and a house address. Thank you for the reminder that I missed your early application—I hope regular application still floats your boat.


Sincerely,



Student.

Ps money would be nice.