It cut to the bone because I had something similarly pure and beautiful; an unblemished memory of the boy who saved me from self-destruction when things at home had hit a particularly low point. It was one of my best childhood dreams, my whole life. In 2013, after 25 years he sought me out, again at a low point in my life, and it was easy…sooo easy to see it as a sign, or fate. Something meant to be…but he was not that boy anymore, and his motives were not what he led me to believe, and he nearly destroyed me.

No. That’s not true. I refuse to give him that power. But the really awful thing he did was soil that memory--that ONE perfect memory I had from that terrible time in my life.

I so, so wish he had never come back.

I want my innocence back. I want to unremember him now and have 1988 him be my only memory.

Ah, well.

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

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