It affected not only my dealings with others, but with myself. I didn’t curse – at all – until after college, because I prided myself on using my words to describe my feelings. In fifth grade, a friend spread a rumor about me, and I wrote her a letter to tell her how I felt. There is a dark underbelly to being a voracious reader. I didn’t have many friends, because reading ‘The Good Earth’ in first grade doesn’t endear you to your classmates. My words-per-minute and accompanying comprehension was tested in both third and fifth grade, with my fifth-grade teacher calling me inhuman. That letter I mentioned in the above paragraph was given to the school guidance counselor, and I was locked in her office for three hours because I wouldn’t apologize for writing it.
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