The one thing I would like to get across about my whole feeling regarding high school is how I was when I was fifteen. Gawky. Always a hem hanging down, or strap loose, or a pimple on my chin. I never knew what to do with my hair. I was a mess. And I still carry that fifteen-year-old girl around now. A piece of me still believes I'm the girl nobody dances with.

I have no desire to be dominated. Honestly I don't. And yet I find myself becoming angry when I'm not.

In my sex fantasy, nobody ever loves me for my mind.

I have made a lot of mistakes falling in love, and regretted most of them, but never the potatoes that went with them.

What failure ofimagination had caused me to forget that life was full of other possiblities, including the possibility that eventually I would fall in love again?

Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address.

Believe me, if I looked good, it's not an accident.