But Then She Was Not Awkward, She

I Didn't Like The Way I Looked, The Way I Dressed And Moved, What I Achieved And What I Felt I Was Worth. But There Was So Much Energy In Me, Such Belief That One Day I'd Be Handsome And Clever And Superior And Admired, Such Anticipation When I Met New People And New Situations. Is That What Makes Me Sad? The Eagerness And Belief That Filled Me Then And Exacted A Pledge From Life That Life Could Never Fulfill? Sometimes I See The Same Eagerness And Belief In The Faces Of Children And Teenagers And The Sight Brings Back The Same Sadness I Feel In Remembering Myself.

What A Sad Story, I Thought For So Long. Not That I Now Think It Was Happy. But I Think It Is True, And Thus The Question Of Whether It Is Sad Or Happy Has No Meaning Whatever.

I Thought That If The Right Time Gets Missed, If One Has Refused Or Been Refused Something For Too Long, It's Too Late, Even If It Is Finally Tackled With Energy And Received With Joy. Or Is There No Such Thing As "too Late"? Is There Only "late," And Is "late" Always Better Than "never"? I Don't Know.

...i Had To Point At Hanna. But The Finger I Pointed At Her Turned Back To Me. I Had Loved Her. I Tried To Tell Myself That I Had Known Nothing Of What She Had Done When I Chose Her. I Tried To Talk Myself Into The State Of Innocence In Which Children Love Their Parents. But Love Of Our Parents Is The Only Love For Which We Are Not Responsible. ...and Perhaps We Are Responsible Even For The Love We Feel For Our Parents.

I Know That Disavowal Is An Unusal Form Of Betrayal. From The Outside It Is Impossible To Tell If You Are Disowning Someone Or Simply Exercising Discretion, Being Considerate, Avoiding Embarrassments And Sources Of Irritation. But You, Who Are Doing The Disowning, You Know What You're Doing. And Disavowal Pulls The Underpinnings Away From A Relationship Just As Surely As Other More Flamboyant Types Of Betrayal.