(Content Warning: Before you read any further, I just want to say that what follows is a non-fiction retelling of various life experiences that both myself and those I know went through. Because of that, there is, and I don't say this lightly or jokingly, a lot of objectionable material. I have kept things honest and truthful in how they happened in real life, so please bear in mind that over the course of these posts, there will be accurate re-tellings of substantial instances of; racism, homophobia, transphobia, sexism, other forms of bigotry, sexual assault, rape, bullying, violent assault, self-harm, depression, suicide, drug use and abuse, alcohol abuse, hospitalization, and various examples of trauma. Language is rarely censored. Please keep that in mind if you choose to continue. The last thing I want to do is cause any additional pain or discomfort. Starting from the words "Part 1" a few paragraphs down, you are reading what can and does involve all of these warnings. Thank you.)
This is a lengthy blog post, although not anything close to a novel, involving a bit of exercising of demons, of coming to peace with certain things I did, I saw, and I saw others have happen. As all things, you're choosing to read this through the author's lense and then whatever you bring to it, and I've chosen things that I feel contribute to the overall narrative (if one exists). You're left to decide on your own if my selection of experiences and people and moments I choose to share is fair or not. Maybe that's not the point. Maybe there never was.
What follows is mostly a series of anecdotes starting when I was in elementary school and running up until present day. There is no overarching plot, not a lot of recurring characters (other than myself and a few friends), and no narrative framing or devices other than me just confessing. Maybe I missed the heyday of confessional blog posts when they seemed to be all the rage about 10 years ago. But then again, all writing is confessional. Even if you write about elves and orcs and wizards, you are imbuing what you create with your values and interests and desires and then asking the world to pay money to embark on reading it. Maybe we're all egoists. Maybe none of us are. Maybe that's not the point (again).
No matter how much or how little you read of this, whether you love or hate or feel indifferent, I'd like to thank anyone and everyone who has ever come to this very, very tiny corner of the internet. All I can promise about what follows is that it is honest. Names have been changed, and locations are unspecific, and I bumped a grade around a bit here and there for anonymity (a 5th grade story might have really been 4th, etc.), but about 95% of this is portrayed as happened. Whether or not that means anything is up to you.