It's 1990 and my hair piles high, full of Proforma hair spray. I wear those tapered sweat pants that make everybody's butt look so big even Orca gets worried.
I work at a circulation desk in the library at University of Wisconsin Parkside typing a love letter to my future husband. Probably not the best way to use library resources but nonetheless:
CIRCULATION SUBSYSTEM COMMAND: HI TIMOTHY, I THOUGHT I'D TYPE YOU A LETTER. I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH. I WOULDN'T TRADE YOU FOR THE WORLD. (You see already I don't fare well in my poetry writing class) I'M BESIDE MYSELF IN HAPPINESS (that should be with not in but who checks grammar when you're in love?)
YOU'RE A VERY TALENTED PERSON AND I HOPE THAT TALENT CAN SPILL OVER INTO MY LIFE (because it's all about me, you know). YOU KNOW THAT SAYING THAT OPPOSITES ATTRACT (cliche number 3)? I DON'T BELIEVE IN IT AT ALL. I DON'T THINK WE'RE OPPOSITE AT ALL (make it nice, say it twice.)
WE HAVE SO MUCH IN COMMON THAT I COULD JUST SPIT (how romantic!). WELL, NOT REALLY SPIT BUT IT'S A NICE FEELING ANYWAY TO BE LOVED. NOW ALL OF A SUDDEN IT SEEMS EVERYTHING FALLS IN PLACE (funny, that's exactly what I said to my previous boyfriend.)
BY THE TIME I GRADUATE, I'M SURE WE'LL ACCOMPLISH WHAT WE'VE SET OUT TO DO (it took a while after graduation day but yeah, we did it). AND WE'LL HAVE EVEN MORE TO ACCOMPLISH. IT'LL BE LIKE A NEW RENAISSANCE (that was the first big word I learned in college.) AND MAYBE WE'LL BE TRENDSETTERS, WHO KNOWS?
Have you died from insulin shock yet? No wonder my husband's diabetic.