University life was nothing like high school.
Nobody knew me here.
Nobody knew who Sybilla Carrow was.
Nobody knew who Mireille Hollis was.
I slipped into the crowd like a fish vanishing into the wide ocean.
Freshman year, I joined the campus radio station.
Every Wednesday afternoon, I took charge of the broadcast booth, spun a few tracks, and read my scripts over the air...
Scripts I wrote myself.
I penned an essay examining school bullying.
No real names, no identifiable details.
Just an opening line: "I once knew a girl."
The station manager sat in stunned silence for a solid thirty seconds after hearing the draft read aloud.
"Did you write this yourself?"
"Yes."
"Submit it to the university literary journal."
So I submitted it.
From there, the piece was featured on the
