I Tried Mailing a Letter for the First Time at 19 and It Nearly Broke Me
Until yesterday, I had never mailed a physical letter. Not a package, not a birthday card—just a regular, single-sheet-of-paper letter.
If you’re reading that and screaming, either internally or out loud (go ahead, I support vocal existential crises), you’re not alone. How? How does a 19-year-old make it this far without once interacting with a postage stamp?
The answer: Gmail. My dad had me writing emails before I even knew what cursive was. He figured email was the language of the future—and he was right. I grew up formatting polished emails with perfect subject lines while never once touching an envelope. Why would I? Email is free, instant, and doesn’t require talking to strangers at a counter.
But yesterday, I needed to mail a letter. Physically. With a stamp. Because apparently, recruiters still respect old-school paper when it arrives via government-funded paper pigeon.
I walked into the post office like it was an alien temple. I stood in line, clutching my sad little envelope, and waited for some internal instinct to tell me what to do. It never came.
I learned—shockingly—that mailing a letter is not free. For some reason, I assumed the government handled paper letters as a complimentary gesture for paying taxes. (It made sense in my head. You drop it in a public box. No one checks. Magic.)
Turns out, it costs actual human money. The postage alone was $12 CAD. Just for a normal envelope. Do you know what you can get for $12? A whole lunch. A whole crisis therapy journal. Not... a stamp.
Speaking of stamps: I saw the most beautiful little booklet of literary-themed ones. Eight gorgeous stamps with classic writers on them. I almost bought it—until I saw the price tag. Another $12. For stickers. Emotional, powerful stickers, yes, but still.
I couldn’t do it. Sorry to the stamp collectors of the world. My budget has limits.
Honestly, though? The whole experience made me weirdly emotional. Writing a letter feels... meaningful. Like you’re offering a piece of your time in a way that texting just doesn’t. It’s an art form. One I haven’t practiced. One I now want to learn.
This is not just a rant about stamps or envelopes or sticker shock. It’s a little note to myself: maybe we’ve lost something by letting our messages get reduced to pixels and notifications. Maybe we should bring back the slowness, the weight, the waiting.
I still hate how much stamps cost. But I kind of love what letters can do.
