True Believer

You get older and you are a whole mess of things, new thoughts, sorry feelings, big plans, enormous doubts, goling along hoping and getting disappointed, over and over again, no wonder I don't recognize my little crayon picture. It appears to be me and it is and it is not.

I sure would like to get kissed. How would that feel on my mouth, How different would I be after, a changed climate down in my insides?

What does the cross mean?" I ask him. "Crucifix. I don't know exactly. Jesus hanging in agony, nailed to boards. But it's a reminder." "Of what?" "Well. Of—Well, evil. That evil's always gonna be around, and you deal with it.

And so I came on the discovery with no warning. Religion must be for trusting. And trusting, what is that for? I figured it out: It helps you go on when you can't go on.

We weren't put on Earth to exclude each other.

In Biology Patrick and I were like two pencils in a box, parallel but not alive to each other, my guilty feelings stifling my common sense.

You want my honest opinion?" she says. I've already heard too many, but she goes ahead: "LaVaughn, I like you for being uppity. That's partly why we're here. Right?" "Huh?" I ask her. "Here in this room we're obligated to be uppity. That's our purpose here. We're supposed to change. Those friends of yours can't appreciate you. They don't know how.

She isn't easy to have for a mom, she has too many opinions for one family, she can make me want to slam doors and stick out my tongue but I don't do it because of the long run.

You know how you want something so much and you're afraid of it too?