Dieci anni

An old student came by; it had been ten years. She said our workplace is a sad one, that many traumatic events have taken place, but that I look the same as ever and seem happy. I changed her life, she said, by convincing her she could do the professional things she did not think she could.

(Teaching is not important, and I am not good at it.)

How to eject the introjected torturer, though. I think of Marilyn Monroe, taking drugs, with so much pressure to perform in the ways desired.

I wonder whether the harsh people I always felt goading me ahead on the paths they chose were actually mere fans.




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