"Look," says Bella. "You haven't known me very long, you're scared of me, you're prematurely cynical, etcetera, you have no reason to believe I'm good at anything except writing school essays - I understand you have no reason to believe I'm going to be able to accomplish anything remotely interesting with my life - but do you think you could stop steering our conversations straight into how very functionally worthless you think I am at anything except having charmingly naive good intentions?"