Last week I posted a story that mentioned my sixth grade classroom experience, and the poor girl, C, who picked her nose in front of us. I don’t know what happened to the rest of her life, but I do know she was institutionalized at some point, unable to socialize well.
I had a dream about C last night. The main action: I’m waiting in front of a college building and C comes downstairs. We link eyes, and she walks away, but returns to speak to me. Continue reading “I don’t want to act like a bitch anymore…” »