I recently received an email from an old friend from high school who saw this blog, and it brought back memories. (She shall remain anonymous, since I do not have permission to reveal her identity.)
I remember being incredibly angry with my mother for shoving me into a school for gifted children. I suspected then, and am certain now, that this was not for my good, but for her to show off. At age 15, I had gone to public schools for most of my education, and here I had to take an IQ test just to get admitted to this exclusive private school. Then I had to try to keep up with a whole class full of geniuses. The stress caused my health to crash, I suffered a bout of shingles and I ended up on tranquilizers to two years.
At one point, I nearly committed suicide. Instead I left home. At age 17, I walked out the door at ten o'clock at night, a week before Christmas, with ten dollars in my pocket. With no destination in mind, and no resources to support me, I took my chances on the random events of that night.
That was a long time ago, but I still see it clearly. That is how I write my stories. I walk out the door and take my chances.
I am so glad that my old friend contacted me. I've been wondering about her for all these years. It's always good to hear from an old friend. And I'm so glad that both of us have survived and possibly thrived.
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