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feeling... sharp. dangerous. full of attitude.
which, I guess, is just what a girl about to go to college ought to feel like. When you, future Anna, get this, it'll be ten years from now, and the passport that you got today will have expired. How was going to school in another country? Was it far enough away from your parents?
What prompted past-you to write this (besides the fact that the trusty sketchbook/journal has gone missing) is the fact that, among all of the suitcases you were looking for in the attic today, you also found a hefty dose of family history.
History from 1840. A picture of the family goat. Hand drawn sketches of the cottage. Letters back and forth between two feuding families. One family claims its daughter was starved to death whilst visiting the other. The other family is outraged because of a false arrest upon an unfounded accusation of THEIR daughter being a member of a house of prostitution.
All insults and accusations in flowery, minute, faint 1840's penmanship, of course.
I don't even know what the point of this email is. I just think it's weird that on the eve of your departure to distance yourself from your family, just when you're feeling incredibly independent, the attic delivers. Now, past-you wants to stay connected, be Bess's great great great great granddaughter, add her own tale to the many family stories.
Past-you wants to stay in the attic forever, reading the family history.
But I guess that's why college is good. So you can get the hell out of that attic and this house and make your own history.
Go on.
Epilogue
3 days laterTen years ago, I was a senior in high school aching to go to college as far away from home as possible. I wanted to see other countries and make...
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