One girl, an unknown name, a mysterious fire.
When I was 12, I decided I would no longer let other people's lives shape mine.
I got my head out of my book, and I gave my best try at the Game of Social Interaction. I found that it was hard. I got scared. I dove back into my world of words, where I was safe.
A month later, I tried again. I made a friend. I taught a girl from Serbia how to speak english. I got knocked unconscious. I set a carpet on fire. I laughed for the first time in months, and I was happy.
At 14 I discovered that I was bisexual. I freaked. My parents divorced. My mother started dating a woman. My grandparents cut us off from them.
My world was upside down.
I got punched in the face for the first time when I was 13. Somebody made a remark I couldn't ignore. I got spitting mad, I called them a few choice words.
I decided that this wasn't working. I tried to write for the first time. I read my sister's hidden poetry notebooks. I screamed.
I tried poetry. I gave up stories.
Now I'm trying again.