No. The Answer Was No, I Was

I Realized Michael Was Right. I Mean, I Am Always Writing In This Journal. And I Do Compose A Lot Of Poetry, And Write A Lot Of Notes And Emails And Stuff. I Mean, I Feel Like I Am Always Writing. I Do It So Much, I Never Even Thought About It As A Talent. It's Just Something I Do All The Time, Like Breathing.

Because My Heat Was Too Full Of Appreciation For What My Friends-- My Real Friends-- Had Done For Me.

Mr. Greer Timed All Our Speeches With An Oven Timer. Things Were Nothing At Tribeca Alternative, Considered One Of Manhattan's Finest Prep Schools, If Not High Tech.

I Was The Kind Of Kid Who Couldn't Really Stop Making Up Stories During Class. I Didn't Do Very Well Academically Because I Was Always Drawing These Little Doodles In The Margins Of My Notebooks And I Wasn't Bringing Home The Best Grades.

In A Way, I Was Incredibly Proud Of Her (not That I Had Any Intention Of Letting It Show While I Was Beating The Crap Out Of Her).