But I meekly posted:Okay, the days were busy enough to distract me, somewhat, from thepresence of my chastity belt, and the predicament of being locke... in itwithout access to the keys, but the nights were another thing entirely.I didn't want to just stay in my hotel room thinking about things, so Iwent out after class for dinner and a few drinks (non-alcohol in mycase) with others in the seminar I had got to know in class. As we sataround a quiet bar, there was one woman in particular (I'll. . I'll be a ballerina when I grow up."My thoughts grew fuzzy and I found myself actually wanting to do thecrazy things it was forcing my mouth to say. The thing had taken my freewill. All I could do was run home in a blind panic. I wanted to cry. Butinstead, I've gotten the journal and written this. Maybe someday someonewill find this and make sense of what's happened. This last part willlook so odd, in a little girl's penmanship. But it has to be told ... Ican't speak my mind, but I can still. More

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