“No. That’s not even her biggest problem,” says Jay. “Pooh doesn’t know who she is, and by not knowing who she is, she doesn’t know her worth. So, who are you?” “What?” “Who are you?” she repeats. “Of the millions and billions of people in the world, you’re the only person who can answer that. Not people online or at your school. I can’t even answer that. I can say who I think you are.” She cups my cheek. “And I think you’re brilliant, talented, courageous, beautiful. You’re my miracle. But you’re the only one who can say who you are with authority. So, who are you?” “I’m . . .” I can’t find
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