A’right, so parts o’dat essay still make me cringe. To tell you de truth, I hate writin, myself. Sometimes I don'trust de written word at all. Words jus get you into trouble. If I had a choice I wouldn't use dem at all. Dey are inadequate to de bone. Dis probly sound like some kinda o’foppery considerin all de written words an notes dat I keep takin and keepin and takin, etc. all de goddam time. But anyway, de point is... What was my fuckin point, anyway?
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Well, her teacher really liked’essay. It was the kinda thing where he read it to de whole class, yadda yadda, which again, centers her out. And in d’end, what he told her was dat her essay was d’only one outta de class dat indicated she had ended up in her program because of prejudice. Boy, did that ever make her think.
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I think da’s part o’da reason she was so big on being my roommate: she wanted to go into medicine. She jus felt like she wasn smart enough to make it.
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Shit. Dat was my point. No matter how much she got made fun of, no matter how much she was centered out an laughed at, she never (an dey did some mean shit to her man, let me tell you) fuckin fought back. Never once. When I first met her, she was de nicest damn person I had ever known. And’en after d’attack, she jus fuckin snapped. Prin was on de warpath, an from dat moment on she didn stop. To see her like dat was quite eerie. I’s like she totally flipped a switch. And it really makes me wonder. Maybe we all start out innocent and wonderful, it’s just a matter o’time before our experience corrupts us. Prin led a pretty sheltered life. Maybe she was able to hold out longer dan most.
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