Got to the apple scene today-- my nose all runny. The memory of being seven and having my bruises look at by the shadow. In the margins I write, "I've known so many Hum's." I'm reminded of that time a distant mutual wrote in the hidden space that when she first read Lolita, she felt like Humbert, and I stopped dead in my tracks because that's exactly how I felt in 8th grade. That the weight of being a "nymphet" is just as heavy as being a Hum. Oh how you have to cringe and hide! That like Hum, I documented everything in a little notebook or google doc that I'd guard with my life, because no one could know just how "bad" I was-- that when men leered, I felt special, daydreaming about their features that confused, scared, and interested me. In the apple scene, he's so proud because he was able to indulge without corrupting Lo, and it makes me feel the same sort of nausea I felt in that summer, in the kingdom by the sea. At sixteen asking the 48-year-old if he felt bad for our relationship, and he said no, because we were only talking and there's nothing wrong with talking. When I was in contact with him, I was so sick-- I couldn't look anybody in the eyes. If I remember correctly, I swam at a friend’s house, which made me think of him, and I later vomited until I was sore-- lying on the couch, friend's mom asking if I needed to go to the hospital. My stomach fluttered because I was flattered but also so coldly nervous with shivers. While the Humberts of the world might think the child is so unaware, they know-- the hair on their legs stands up, their tummies flutter, they spend their summer shivering. But then again, you frequently read that Hum also experienced these tremors, and it shows that these things-- the emotions of the man and the girl cross over. Though I argue that it's learned, that we mimic the men who've hurt us because sometimes hurt was never the intention-- you loved him, and love sticks just as much as the hurt.