We were talking in class about Allyson's project, which involves people writing down stories about their possessions. (It's actually a bit more complicated than that, but that's okay.) Larry was saying how he really responded to the different stories. One story he identified with, and really liked the narrator. Another story he described as from someone who was like, twelve or something, and was so stupid that someone should take her out and drown her. What he didn't know, because the stories were anonymous, was that it was mine.
So why am I gleeful? I guess I just like having a juicy story more than I mind having my classmate tell me (unknowingly) to my face that I'm too stupid to live. I am such a drama queen.