An Open Letter to the Other Hannah Murphy

Dear Hannah Murphy, 

No, I’m not talking to myself here. Our paper doesn’t have a personal ads section, so I’m abusing my power to get in contact with my namesake; the other Hannah Murphy. In some kind of cruel joke, fate has decided to bring us together at this fine public institution. 

Alas, we’ve been cursed with a combination of the fourth most common surname in Massachusetts and one of the most popular birth names of the early 2000s. Thanks, Mom and Dad, for being so creative.  

Our similarities aren’t in name alone. I happen to know that you’re also a junior, also an English major, and that we look so much alike that we can easily be mistaken for one another while wearing a mask. I promise I’m not some creepy stalker, it’s just difficult to avoid picking up all this second-hand knowledge when I’ve been mistaken for you dozens of times during my BSU career.  

I’ve often found myself wondering about your life. Do your acquaintances, slightly confused and offended, also question why (not) you didn’t wave back when they saw (again, not) you across campus earlier? Have your classmates asked you about the homework only for you to explain that sorry, no, you’re not in that course? Do professors send you reminders about deadlines and books to pick up that haven’t actually been assigned to you? (I hope you ended up getting that copy of Henry James’ The American, by the way). I know for certain you’ve gotten quite a few of my emails and possibly been confused about what this Comment thing is. As a general PSA, my address is h7murphy; please give this poor other Hannah a break. 

Is it weird that I feel a sort of solidarity with you? I’ll be so proud to see you walk across that stage at graduation (but which of us gets to go first? I’m already stressed just thinking about it). If you ever need help with any The Parent Trap-esque hijinks, you can always hit me up. 

Then again, maybe it’s best that we don’t meet. If I find out that you’re actually a much cooler, smarter version of me from an alternate universe, it will crush my confidence forever. Or maybe if we touch it’ll accidentally create a paradox that tears apart the space-time continuum; the very fate of humanity could hang in the balance. Still, I’m wishing you all the best as my sister-in-name. Just please promise me you won’t consider a double major in political science any time soon; I need something to set me apart. 


Your secret twin/doppelganger/evil clone: the other other Hannah Murphy 

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