May 3, 2002
Why is it that whenever I have something important to say my voice gets thin and I want to burst out crying? I was brought up to take it and be then quiet about it. In bed at night, I'd be super-still. Could anyone feel me if I didn't move? As I grew up, everything that had been nailed inside came to the surface. "I'm not a thing to be lent out on an as-needed basis," I said to my boss with a dry throat and tear ducts ready to gush. "No worries," he said, simply. Gosh. This is easy.