She was surrounded by drawings and sketchbooks, many of which had been torn apart. Tears were flowing down her cheeks as she repeated, “Shit. Garbag.... Sophomoric. Crap.”“Kate! What are you doing? Don’t ruin your art!” I yelled as I rushed toward her.“Stay away! Liars! Liars! All of you are liars! It’s all garbage!”“That’s not true, Kate. I love your art.”“Don’t patronize me. You of all people. You with so much talent you have to hide it. Nothing I have will ever be as good as yours. You told me. He was making me mad. I always understood him, but he was having a tough time letting me go on dates. My dad was thirty-five, so, technically, he was young. My mom died giving birth to me when she was my age, and she would be thirty-two years old today. Therefore, I always thought he deserved to have the most understanding daughter ever. He had lost his high school sweetheart like that and had to start taking care of me instead of enjoying his life. But being always understanding was hard since. More

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