Potent quotables
I can only tell my version. It is what I know. It is what I remember. It is what I felt. Trying to include everyone’s disparate versions would fragment this story beyond usefulness and, for me, truth. So I am left with the uncomfortable task of calling it like I saw it, knowing no two people in this story would tell it the exact same way.
I have barely even kissed a boy. I feel wildly embarrassed but can’t figure out why. All of a sudden, I am hyperaware of my body and burning with shame; did that first kiss with Gary Whipple in seventh grade cost me a petal?