Dear 2024 - Hofstra Chronicle
As I write this letter to myself (and all readers of The Hofstra Chronicle), I sit alone in my childhood bedroom, swallowed by distant memories of a version of myself that I’ve been longing for throughout the whole year.
There are tattered running bibs from my cross-country days stuck to the wall, childhood outfits that would cling tightly
to my skin now that I’ve grown into my adult body and favorite books of the past. Going through drawers brings a tear to my eye some days. It’s heart-wrenchin...
There are tattered running bibs from my cross-country days stuck to the wall, childhood outfits that would cling tightly
to my skin now that I’ve grown into my adult body and favorite books of the past. Going through drawers brings a tear to my eye some days. It’s heart-wrenchin...