Conflict

January 11, 1983: I have been thinking and remembering a lot about my life before this trip to Argentina. My life hasn't been an easy one. It never was. There was the coming to the United States when I was a little girl, then the loneliness, the dates I never had, the proms I never dressed up for. The conflicts were, for the most part, emotional. That is how they were. What they were. And they hurt. They hurt a lot. Even when the incident is no longer remembered with sharpness, the feeling still remains. It could be the feeling of failure, the feeling of something not right, that I didn't know what to do what had to be done.