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“I don’t know that there’s any plan for our lives,” I say as the thought occurs to me. “I think we just get confronted with choices, and the more honest we are when making them, the more our life begins to reflect us.”
We are the narratives we tell ourselves. But do we shape language, or does language shape us? Do we define words, or do words define us? If everyone keeps insisting I’m this monster, how soon before I become her?
