**SPOILER: I declined the post, in case you wanted to know. I regretted it, but now I realize it was for the best.**
I must start by saying that of all things, the Saturday Meetings taught me one lesson: feeling complete feels exactly the same as feeling empty. Every Saturday I'd undergo a series of unlikely events that would lead to an existential crisis that would lead to nights of insomnia. Every Saturday I strove to make friends, I failed, I hated myself for that, tried not to stare at RK, I loved him, tried to talk to him, failed again, I kept remembering his words and smiled, then remembered what a failure I was, I was thankful I could be there, then wished to go home and never come back, I started enjoying loneliness, or at least I fooled myself into believing I did, I kept trying -in forlorn hopes of getting it right-, I failed again, I was ignored by everyone, hardly anyone knew my name, I didn't like to be there, but deep inside I knew I wouldn't get away so easily, because even though I hated it, I didn't really want to leave. It's weird, you know? To feel so alone. I'm used to it, but it still hurts.
My life was a mess and I won't even try to deny it, but I remember so many moments I'll praise forever. They are scattered like puzzle pieces I can't fathom into a full image. They just lay there, static and untouched, telling a story that can only mean something when it is isolated from the actual storyline. I built myself a Lego life with a few missing pieces, but I figured it could still fulfill its job as a shelter. A makeshift shelter that somewhere between red and white kerchiefs became my one and only home. Sometimes it faltered, but it never failed, and suddenly it was too late to appreciate just how much it meant to me.
Anyway, I grew up, in all the sense of the word. I became a different version of me. A bolder one, I like to believe, but also a more sensitive one. I learned to love a lilac love I didn't even know could be felt. I was innocent and shy, but sometimes (and only sometimes) I was brave. I spoke my mind and stood up for what I believed was right. Of course this were the times when I screw up the most, but then again, they were the times when I had most to risk. And if I had to go back, I'd risk it all all over again, no second guesses.
His chapter is a long one, as long and detailed as a 13 year old girl's mind will allow (and believe me, that's a long and complex story that can grow exponentially if needed (and I sure as hell needed my fantasies (as I still do, as a matter of fact))), so I decided to split it into as many sub-chapters as needed, because after all, this stories are a bit true and a bit daydreamed, and they can only make sense when isolated from reality.
