All I have are memories and curiousities which I try to satisfy hunting around the internet and finding very little except what I already know and was it a dream? NO a thousand times no How do I KNOW? My poems are the breadcrumbs to my dark memories of the place A place without honesty a place where I struggled to find the appropriate illusion or delusion or denial that seemed to work for those successful here but could not stand it, bear it, do it and some could, but it wasn't good for them either "this program is working" "we are at the cutting edge of education" "our leaders are smart" and I couldn't do it, couldn't activate that switch which is so close to those switches I struggled so hard to turn off "my family is happy" "if I am unhappy at home it is all my fault" and to turn them back on, for they are all connected somehow, would be a kind of death and I'm not adept enough, compartmentalized enough not yet. I made many mistakes there, leaning on the unstable which caused him pain trying to get comfort from a stone, which dislodged him but it's over now and today I have a scholarship and I have little notes on my work: "nice job," "very thoughtful response" and I am that same person I was only a few weeks ago that same person who wasn't a "good fit" who didn't get it, who was causing problems with her quick mind and rebellious thoughts but now its over and all the people I offended have moved on and the dagger stuck in my belly has been removed and the bleeding has stopped, and healing has begun and someday I will make peace with all this