“Damn this is irritating,” I said impatiently, to no one in particular. “I hate this feeling.” I called my closest friend, Marí twice. She did say she’s in class all day, but wow, she’s dedicated, I thought. I hate this feeling, it’s like there is something missing and I can’t fill the void in me, but it needs to end. What I did was unacceptable, against my nature, and more important, a stain to my honor. I do not tolerate anything that would do such a thing against me, but I did this myself. My mother and Marí told me that I beat myself up over it enough, but it didn’t feel like I did. I still feel like crap when I think about it. I don’t like it and I don’t accept it. But it’s not my decision to accept it actually. The ball is in this girl’s court now. Just like tennis, I thought. I served, she hit, and I clumsily tapped it back. Now, if she wants to, she can punish me severely. People tend to do that, I pondered. If they see the opportunity with reason, they will pass swift, harsh, sadistic judgment.

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