Childhood Lost- Narrative Essay for Comp I. 9-27-99 Sometimes when I listen to myself speak, it is not my voice I hear, but my mother’s. I love Mom, but the last thing I want is to be like her. As much as I hate to admit it, if I had known her as she was in high school, I doubt I would have liked her. The truth is, Mom has never understood anything that really matters to me. A parent who was popular and outgoing as a teenager rarely understands a child who is neither. My mother was beautiful; although that word is overused, it is the only one that comes…