Mr.Black and Mr.White

"Happiness depends upon ourselves." - Aristotle

I feel the quote above is a good reference to the theme of my letter (of sorts) to Christina.

Dearest Christina,
  Have you ever really truly loved someone? And I'm not talking family, or pets. I'm talking in terms of a person who you would give your life for, but at the same time would want to spend the rest of your entirety with? I don't think either of us can say we have, in fact I'll be the first to admit that. And I don't know if I really want to find that person. I don't know how I would handle those emotions, it would ruin everything, at least form my perspective. Perhaps when your in love you don't see things the same way. Being in love shouldn't be a bad thing, it should be a good thing.
  Obviously, well I hope, you're not in love with either of your 'paramours'. This is the cue for the Aristotle quote. You just need to do what you believe is the right thing FOR YOU. If there is anything I've learned about having anxiety is that sometimes you cannot please everyone and thus need to center on yourself and what is healthy for you. They can just deal. If dating is what you are interested in, why not do a little something with Mr.Hipster? Just spell it out that this whole grade difference will stop you guys from having a long relationship. Then you can hop over to Mr.Chest, if he gets into St.Olaf. (which seems like a sure thing according to you)
  Again, I would like to apologize about the awkwardness that ensued this morning. I had just closed my computer and was walking down the hallway when I came upon you two, and I was not strong enough to walk away from this juicy attraction right in front of me. I must admit, I KNEW he liked you the moment I read about the NPR outside by the car thing (having had a few similar late nights). It seems that night brings out confidence in boys. All dramatic things happen while the moon is out.
  Here are my two cents on the issue. Mr.Hipster needs to get his ass up off the couch and TALK to you, because nothing gets done without conversation. Thus, I might have to start bringing around a stress ball so I won't slap him in the face. Also, I never remember being introduced to him by (I'm not even sure who he said) so I'll just call him a LIAR, which is true if you were in the girlfriends shoes.
  Man, this letter started off so nice and formal, and now here we are. Perhaps I can salvage it?
  Yours,
        Elizabeth

A visual for those of you not there.