Although I love being at your side, There's still that part that has to hide For I'm shielding myself From a feared remorse Which would erupt If your love lost its course... Shipwrecked and broken On the craggy shore, "Look... accept... I love you no more!" Friendship is the only key To loose the me that isn't free! I hold fast to that sheer control Which forbids emotion to take its toll And tear me to shreds... Leaving naught but remnants, Nothing but threads To blow in the wind Until one day My spirit would lead me Ever away... Far from the lair Of self-wrought despair. I'll build me a fence! I'll build me a wall!... A windowless room That's eleven feet tall! And there shall I dwell, A vacant shell... The only escape From life's loving hell. An existence blind to reality Is merely my mind's chosen fantasy Of what I would become If I should come undone. Yet, in a sense, It is real and very true... In my love for the world... In my love for you... Sometimes I wish I loved you more... But still clench the key To my heart's door. Lauren Isaacson January 1980 Nonsense It was only yesterday, And hours before when I, Without a thought of calories, Had baked a chocolate pie. In reflecting culinary action, Its value I must assess For in the act of doing so, I created quite a mess! Buying property is like peanut butter on bread... The more peanuts you've got, the better the spread. PAGE 160 Chapter 21 Twelfth Grade "One must like himself; self-love is the core from which all else grows, including the ability to give and to accept." CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Twelfth Grade At the onset of 12th grade, I had found employment at a large department store where I worked in ladies fashions, hanging merchandise or ringing up sales on a computerized register. I worked hard, thinking of myself as having just one of many thankless jobs in which the "reward" came only via Friday paychecks. Yet hard work did pay off, and my boss had, indeed, noticed. A comment I had written in February of 1980 read: Pete came up to me at work and said, "Laurie, I just want to say that you are a super gal and a fine employee." The next line, written as a matter of fact, stated: I had a hernia. Compliments can come as a shock when they are not freely given, but perhaps that is when they mean the most. Three days later I found he really meant the words he had said when he changed the work schedule for me so I could go to Mexico over the week of spring break. Feb. 29, 1980... I started crying! He said, "I'll break my back for someone who's willing to break their's for me." It was almost more praise than I could ingest in three days. Almost, but not quite. Mexico was a sweet memory, although I would never choose to travel there again. A gift from my parents after having studied Spanish for four years, the trip was educational as well as recreational, and also proved to be the most enjoyable group experience I had ever known.