Not a Memoir

My name is Abigail Collins and this is not a memoir. Seriously. Don't get me wrong, it certainly has memories in it - plenty of them. But a memoir? That implies order and plot and some sort of overarching moral. And I hate to tell you, but this thing that I'm writing is anything but that.          So if that's what you want, please stop reading now. Believe me, I don't like the idea of someone else reading these words, someone who wouldn't like me, who wouldn't understand me, who'd...
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My name is Abigail Collins and this is not a memoir. Seriously. Don't get me wrong, it certainly has memories in it - plenty of them. But a memoir? That implies order and plot and some sort of overarching moral. And I hate to tell you, but this thing that I'm writing is anything but that.          So if that's what you want, please stop reading now. Believe me, I don't like the idea of someone else reading these words, someone who wouldn't like me, who wouldn't understand me, who'd find me pretentious and uninspiring. I'm sure those people exist. Hey, maybe you're one of them. But I'm going to take that risk. You know why? Because there's also someone, somewhere, who can find the wonderfulness tangled up in the jumble of my life. If that person is you, or might be you, please read on.          Another warning: I'm not extraordinary. I haven't been to the moon or to Paris. I haven't fought a life-threatening disease. I haven't lost a friend or relative in a tragic accident. I haven't fallen in love with a vampire/werewolf/angel/demon/wizard/ambiguous supernatural creature (though I hear that can happen). My Hogwarts letter has yet to come.          In fact, I'm not just un-extraordinary. I'm completely ordinary. I could easily be the girl in your English class or on your bus. The girl eating a croissant two tables over. The girl quietly reading a large book in the corner of the library. I have two parents. They are married, generally happy, and quite nice. I have a nice house. I have a dog named Sir Edward III (long story). I am a senior in high school.          Bored yet? But that's why I want to write this. To show you that even if you don't get recruited into a mystical order of demon-hunters or chased halfway across the world by a mysterious assassin, even if you don't invent the sonic toaster or the self-propelled umbrella, even if you don't find love on another continent or another planet, you just might have a story to tell. I hope you like mine.