He wasn't just some guy though. He was older. Not by much but his position made him seem older. He was my poetry professor, one twenty eight year old ...athan Kennick. He was honestly the reason I decided to take a poetry class. As much as I longed to take a fiction workshop, I couldn't pass up four hours a week staring at him in his flannel shirts. It was an added bonus that his class would help me in getting my creative writing major. We eventually became good friends, maybe a bit more flirty. Her name is Alexis. Of all my sides I love her the most. I’m not sure exactly when she was born, but you might say she became prominent shortly after eight grade. She represents my lust and promiscuity. Many times I would find her whispering in my ear, fantasies I never knew I had in the lewdest and erotic ways possible. In my dreams, she occupied my bed. In my mind, she molded my sexuality; my fetishes. Even now I would venture to say she is dominant. On one side she keeps Caleb at. More

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