When I was a little girl people used to ask me
What do you want kids to be when you grow up?
Astronaut!
good
Doctor!
Becoming good was harder than becoming a doctor or an astronaut or a lifeguard. There are tests to pass to become those things—you have to learn dissection or conquer gravity or practice treading water.
Becoming good was not like that. It was abstract. It felt completely out of reach. It became the only thing that mattered to me. If I could be good, everything would be all right. I would fit in. I would be popular. I would skip death and go straight to heaven.
If you asked me now what this means, to be good, I still don't know exactly.