Incontinentia

A few weeks back, my mom brought me a buttload of boxes from the hospital where she worked. Just noticed that some of these boxes have descriptions.

I've gotten rid of so much shit and I'm still concerned about having too much stuff for the new joint.

Sorting through a slew of old, forgotten junk. Things from other lifetimes.

Found this curious handwritten letter tucked away:

[Malice],

11:30 tuesday night. i'm frantically searching the aisles of Shakespeare and co. for a magical tape that will teach me the italian language for my oral mid-term.

the next day! 9:55 wednesday morning i'm none the more bilingual and Charles in Charge is beginning to appear clever and profound. I've forgotten how to spell. I blame myself for the endless winter of '96.

I'm harboring a mankind destroying plague inside my frail frame but just tell people I have a cold. I don't even have an email account.

I don't hate you [Malice].

in the constant rat race of life, don't forget to unwind.

and to keep a tight hold of the reins.

and to go to Ben and Jerry's for their doughballs.

Starlee

I have no idea what this letter was in response to. I just find these forgotten fragments of communication utterly fascinating. I really could have done so much more with my college years...

I'm looking forward to having a big empty house one day. Somewhere quieter than where I'm heading.