Voices

I can remember when the internet was an empty room, a journal that talked back. Some things only felt real to me if I could articulate them, hold them up for measurement and judgment by strangers whose opinions I found myself valuing more than my own.

I feel bad for whoever writes the rejection letters for each university. Either they perceive themselves as the delicate puppeteers of teenage emotions, or they enjoy the feeling of causing fear into the hearts and minds of applicants.