I Live By Edith Whartons

She Seems Sort Of Lost.' I Thought, Lost How? How Am I Lost? Suddenly I Felt Lost.

Up Until That Moment, I'd Been At The Earliest Stage Of Love, When You Feel It Will Turn You Into The Better Person You Want To Be. Now, His Gentle Voice And Sage Advice Took Me To A Later Stage: I Felt I Needed To Pretend To Be A Better Person Than I Was So He'd Keep Loving Me. This Was Hard Because It Made Me Hate Him.

Finally, I Asked How You Got A Boy To Like You Back. She Said, 'just Be Yourself,' As Though I Had Any Idea Who That Might Be.

Time. There Seems To Be Vast Quantities Of The Stuff Spooling Around Me In All Directions, Everywhere I Look. Days And Hours. Weeks And Minutes. Years. The Hard Part, Ive Discovered, Is Filling It.

Before College, I Hadn't Voluntarily Read Anything That Might Be Called Literature; I Didn't Think I'd Understand It; I Never Seemed To Understand My English Teacher's Interpretations Of What We Read.