My Adolescent Bedroom: A Time Capsule

A pile of silver rings, tarnished and small enough to fit only on my pinky; water bottles half-full of watermelon flavored vodka and whiskey; uncashed credit from Conestoga regarding litmag 2005’s senior parting gifts; two bright yellow peer mediation FROG t-shirts; scrunchies, hair ties and sweatpants that have lost their elastic completely; “pea soup” on compact disc; an issue of W Magazine that holds a photo of Corey Brickley before I even knew him; a few floppy disks; a Titanic poster book; boxes of beads and bags of yarn (ill-fated hobbies); four issues of ALT with that kid Jay on the cover; eleven power bead bracelets; my favorite raspberry lemonade lipgloss and cotton candy body glitter from Limited Too that still smell delicious and are over a decade old; AP scores, voter registration and my data match results from all four years of high school; envelopes full of the most important notes I passed in class, labeled appropriately by year of middle school; a pile of my favorite jeans starting with a pair of Guess, size 27, ripped in the knee and under the crotch, legs covered with Michelle Branch lyrics that I scribbled during Algebra II; my Brown University deference letter; my bat mitzvah dress, in perfect condition and only worn once; an empty box of Black and Milds; my sticker book; ballet slippers & tap shoes; entire collections of YM, Seventeen, Teen People, Jane, Spin, Blender, Elle Girl and American Girl Magazines; professional photos from Jake’s senior prom that he paid for and I never even showed to him; graduation party invitations from 2006 that sit on my desk as if I’m about to attend them; piles of faded receipts from purchases I made in  2001, just in case I need to return something.


4 thoughts on “My Adolescent Bedroom: A Time Capsule

  1. You’d think it have left by now, this love.
    But no.
    These feelings remain unshaken, just as strong as they were 3 years ago when I first confessed my anonymous love to your virgostar, then 2 years ago to your amsterdam_n.
    They say time takes time and then some. She heals all wounds but this scar won’t fade.
    I yearn for your scent. I pray for your acceptance.
    I’d follow you to Texas in an instant just to catch the sight of your flowing hair, your sparkling eyes, your skin which is unsketchable by Picasso himself.
    But alas, my cowardice remains more powerful than my will. And I will continue to lurk in the shadows of your blogs, reading your posts and hearing them spoken in your angelic voice, until this withered soul of mine gives out and I burst from my anonymous affection. Wish I stopped to say hello when I saw you on Broad Street but no, just another regret.
    The Giraffe.

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