Self-esteem & Self-reliance
Yes, that is the problem. That's the only problem. I want my mom back. I want her to knock at my bedroom door and come walking in. I want her to tell me to get my homework done. I want to go with her for a walk in the canyon, up the old logging trails where every step on the thick forest floor is a new adventure. Sometimes I get so, so mad at her for doing this to me.
That picture I sent? It was taken last year, before Mom left. Before I packed on all this fat. That was a good eighty pounds ago though: you wouldn’t even recognize me if you saw me now.
I barely recognize myself.
Isn't she fazed by any of this? Does she do this all the time? Make unsuspecting, seemingly straight girls squirm? Or am I making it all up? But making up what? The butterflies are real. The fact that I want to kiss her is real.
Would kissing a girl be different from kissing boys? If all I did was kiss her would that make me queer? Are you queer just for thinking it? Or does doing it make you queer? And what if I don't want to be queer? Do I get a say in this at all?
"I think I'm pregnant."
Derek stared at her, stunned. She stared back.
He finally found his voice. "You say you think. You don't know for sure?"
"I'm almost three weeks late."
"That's it?” Derek brushed by her. "I hear my sisters talking all the time. That's no big deal."
"It's a big deal for me."
