When I was a child, my cousins poured ketchup on my brother’s body, and claimed it to be blood. As my brother lay on the ground, still and breathless, I believed their lies. Then, I broke just as I did when they told me I was ugly. Every doll I had, being every friend I had, they took from me and destroyed, or threw them in dog feces. But such things happen to children, I am told. This builds character, or it may destroy it. The outcome is revealed in time.
Tiny me, she was delicate and well-dressed. Such manners formed by rigidity and high standards. All I wanted was to please the world, to be adored.