Journal

Every morning we’d go to school. School tended to tear down buildings bit by bit. Society wouldn’t teach us our true heritage, any of us, but it would certainly use every tool of social conformity to make sure we knew where we stood.
When I was ten, I harboured a hopeless, torturous admiration for a girl in grade six. Praying we’d be on the same gym teams. Agonizing over how to become friends. One time, she sits beside me at lunch. It’s the best thirty minutes ever, even if I can’t untie my tongue long enough to actually talk to her.