It seems unreasonable to expect any life that has only been on this Earth for 18 years to have a defined shape to it. Of course, by this point some people may very well have experienced a moment where the course of their existence was altered, but I really haven’t. So, instead of sharp peaks and curving valleys, it makes more sense to envision my life so far as a jumble of shattered fragments, memories and moments that wink in and out of sight as they fade with time and sometimes resurface. The glass is shattered not because of any large impact in particular, but more because that is the nature of glass; like memories it breaks off, and chips away as time progresses. Sometimes I imagine myself hovering over the heap of scattered pieces, peering into their smooth surfaces, and trying to glimpse what is inside. In no particular chronological order, the ones nearest to the top are the clearest; they are tiny windows into my past. As I dig through the fragments and move towards the bottom, they become more opaque- memories of less significance- and instead of windows, the fragments become more like pieces of a mirror.
These paragraphs originally came later in the piece, but in later rounds of editing, as I focused on creating a narrative that was clear for readers, I decided to make them more of an introduction. I felt that by moving theses thoughts to the very beginning instead of having them as a moment of backtracking within the piece, I would be able to keep them (and opinions that I thought were essential to creating an 'I' character) while allowing the rest of the narrative to progress as a more linear story.