I don't represent myself
My life isn't about me.
When I was in third grade, I had to give a speech about Clara Barton. I did the research. I wrote the paper. And then I made myself a paper hat and wore one of my dad’s giant dress shirts in some estimation of a nurse’s uniform.
It was a clumsy approximation of a truly heroic woman, but everybody got the idea. Even without reading my speech, everyone in …
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