What made me so vulnerable in college? What makes me vulnerable now, to this day? What makes me weak, powerless to think my own thoughts and take my own steps? Isn’t there a reason why I am always second-guessing myself?
I am now coming to know the reasons. But should I tell you, o reader? Can I actually be forthcoming, if only here in this odd un-place? I would like someone to know. This seems safe on the surface.

Is it possible I have been beaten down into submission all along the way? But, of course, always with a smile, or a candy, or a dollar bill. Not in the more obviously harmful ways I was later exposed to and was by then defenseless against. Isn’t it time I told the story of how I came to be such that I am? How I ended up impotent. And speechless. And rich with melancholy.

originally published on 3/18/08