This story is not true in the traditional sense, in that it is not factually true in a number of instances. But it is the truth of my experience. So my friends and my family may stumble through these words and think: “There! That’s me! But I didn’t do that! That didn’t happen!” And to them I say: I have written only my experience, my thoughts and how I felt and what I saw
This story is not true in the traditional sense, in that it is not factually true in a number of instances. But it is the truth of my experience. So my friends and my family may stumble through these words and think: “There! That’s me! But I didn’t do that! That didn’t happen!” And to them I say: I have written only my experience, my thoughts and how I felt and what I saw through skewed vision. I was thirteen years old and emotionally crippled. And I hope this story bears out: I was the biggest villain in my own story. It was I, and I alone, who kept myself secret, shamed and alone for so many years.
This is my coming out story. And the story of my mother’s death.
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