Growth And Potential: It's Like A Motivational Speech!

In a house I'd never been in before I am watching TV. I am in a dark room where the only light is from the television. There is also a light on outside the room, in the hallway leading to the bathroom where Neil is, I think. The carpet is brown and not at all sexy but comforting still.

The program on TV is an 80s version of Pokemon, supposedly. Pikachu only appears briefly. The other characters are played by Sarah Schultz and Jocelyn Smith, whom I have known since childhood. Jocelyn is dressed in black with a veil covering her face and this last detail makes it difficult at first to tell who she is, but I do after some time.

I call to Neil who is in the bathroom, or hallway leading to it, out of sight, to tell him I have seen familiars on national TV. He comes in, shaded greatly and obscure and not impressed. He probably doesn't even know Sarah. My father is in the bedroom across the hallway, sleeping with the door open and is annoyed by my calling, whether he says so or not.

I am in the kitchen of my parents' house with my cousin, Luke. Standing in front of the toaster, I look down to find a single, larger than usual egg on my plate. It is covered in pepper, really covered, and the yolk has been punctured and runs just barely. The orange is quite stunning and beautiful.

I am looking at myself in the mirror, in this house here in Austin, at my beautiful, long hair, which reaches my jaw. It is shaped perfectly, which tells me, at long last, that there is nothing wrong enough with me.

I haven't done anything...

I didn't seem too shocked to be back in school. Even the elementary configuration wasn't too startling and those old, rickety desks from the years of times tables and spelling contests were less than impressive. Someone resembling Mrs. Lilquist from my Washington Elementary days was presiding and a semblance of Maggie Bates sat somewhere near me. I sat in a desk, enormous chalkboard ahead and vast, blindless windows to my left, as the announcement of an exam came. It was no surprise to my classmates, most of whom I had been oblivious to until the news came, that we would be taking an exam about a Jane Austen novel, which we had had the entire vacation to get to know. I began to worry when I saw the stack of paper placed somewhat neatly atop an empty desk in the center of the room. The exams were alternately neon blue, pink and yellow, and I excused myself from the classroom after confessing to a classmate that I had "not done anything."

I made my way through the distorted streets of Fayetteville near the university.

In what was my bedroom for many years, Sara Miller waited on me as I gathered my things, mostly clothes, for our journey to her house. It was important what I chose to take with me because I was eventually to participate in a boxing match. At Caitlin Briggs' house down the street we discussed whether or not we would walk the couple of blocks up the hill to her mother's house. I was in favor, she opposed because it was raining. My persuasion almost brought her to tears. A few shadowy figures appeared outside of the glass pane, which constituted the entirety of the home's facade. One of them was Chris Byrne and I joyfully called out his name: "Gangster!" He entered the house, gliding in without using any door or breaking any glass. We shook hands the informal way and reveled in the fact that we were seeing each other for the first time in ages. I gleaned the dark corner across the street.