I'm still a little shocked that I've begun writing true stories about myself. I'm used to putting personal stuff in poems, but at least I can pretend they're not autobiographical if someone asks. Come to think of it, no one asks, but if they ever do, I can tell them that it's art and they need to separate the poet from the speaker and blah blah blah. But, there's nowhere to hide with memoir. I've never really been an attention seeker. I'm the girl at the party who sits on the couch and says nothing. The girl who smiles and nods along with the conversation, but remains mute. I even laugh silently - a tight lipped sort of exhalation instead of an audible giggle. Inevitably, some life-of-the-party-type asks, "Why don't you talk?" to which I reply, "I don't know." Great answer. Now everyone's watching me and just waiting for me to say something, which obvious ensures that I won't try out one of the witty comments I've been rehearsing in my head for the last hour. I'll probably go into the kitchen under the guise of getting a drink, but instead quietly slip outside. I've been an observer for so long. I guess I'm ready to start talking.