2001-08-20 || 4:26 p.m.

|| time capsule: 1996 ||

(hem. i can't remember if i have written about this before. i think i might have. but i have been thinking of time capsules.)

there is a hi-8 cartridge somewhere, i imagine at the bottom of a box containing articles from my teenage closet, of aline and me in our room of the apartment building on campus we lived in our first semester away from home. there is me in pajamas and a house coat, green mud mask on my face and smudged a bit on my collar, sitting on my bed talking to the camera. telling stories about living in san francisco. staying home for tv movies starring tori spelling and dancing in our apartment with the music turned up loud. wanting to fall in love with a boy. wanting my mother to not think i am a loser. aline is beautiful. she is opening her closet to show the camera her clothes. explaining all the pictures taped on the closet doors. talking about what it's like to be our age. what it's like to be in a big scary city with a public transportation system we have not quite gotten the hang of. we are virgins. we have never had hangovers. we have never stayed out in the city too late, drunk and sloppy and threatening to be sick, unable to find our way home. i have not moved out of our room to live with a boy, struck for the first time with power and disappointment from going against my parents' wishes. we both have faith and patience in the future. we both still have our fathers.

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