The raw emotions continue to be painful. I’m still spazzing. I’m still distraught. I’m still frantic and furious. I’m working hard to shed this baggage and the image that has been branded upon me. Meanwhile, I am damaged. Mentally and physically, I am unable to cope on my own. I need support. I need help. I need an advocate.
I finally understand what it means to be a survivor. I must find my footing, pave my way, and mow over the resistance. Even if I’m all alone, I fully intend to fight for my self-worth for as long as it takes.
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It’s not a secret anymore. Women make me nervous. On any given day, it would be easier for me to jump naked into a pit of venomous snakes, freeze my tongue on a streetlight post for an entire winter, or consume a five-course meal of double-edged razor blades than to muscle-up my best sense of […]
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If you really want to insult me, the worst thing you could possibly do is compliment my bare feet. In fact, I would rather you point, laugh and make fun of them because that’s what I typically do. You see, I have the most beautiful, dainty, smoothest, girly feet you’ve ever see for a grown man. […]
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