[ 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 ]	Coming to Terms by Dana Kaye con•fuse 1 archaic : to bring to ruin 2 a : to make embarrassed : ABASH b : to disturb in mind or purpose : THROW OFF 3 a : to make indistinct : BLUR b : to mix indiscriminately : JUMBLE c : to fail to differentiate from an often similar or related When you’re young things are easy, simple. You like to play outside, eat chocolate, and dread bedtime. You have friends; boys, girls, black, white, it doesn’t matter. They’re all friends and you don’t differentiate. I drove by the house I was born in; the one I spent my childhood years in. I remember it being bigger. I remember running on the lawn and feeling as if it was as big as a football field. But when you’re little, everything seems big. I drove two blocks up to the elementary school. I walked up to the swings and the monkey bars, remembering the many afternoons spent playing on them. The tree is still there, the one that I used to climb and feel like I was on top of the world, the one I fell out of and cut my knee open. I still have a scar. When you get older, things begin to blur. Things aren’t easy any more. Nothing is black and white. Life is a Picasso: shades of blue and gray. Everything is differentiated. You don’t have time to play outside anymore, you can’t eat chocolate because you are on a diet, and you are so tired at the end of the day that you long for bedtime. I can’t remember the last time I kicked off my shoes and ran through the grass, or a sprinkler, made snow angels or farting noises with my armpit. I ask myself, when did it stop? This guy is on top of me, in me, jack hammering away and all I can think is that I would rather be watching a movie. I wonder if I remembered to finish my English paper and I think about what I want to have for dinner. His face contorts and his breathing gets harder and faster until he gives out a loud moan and collapses his sweaty torso on top of me. I just wish he would roll over. Losing your virginity is supposed to be some enormous rite of passage, something you will remember forever, and I don’t see what the big fuss is about. They say it is never terrific your first time, but I can’t see how it could ever get better. I feel the same awkwardness that I do when I get a physical; like I’m being justifiably violated, I don’t want to be there, but it is a customary practice.