The wires in my brain seem to be configured by some elaborate practical joke. There are either way too many or too few connecting this input to the corresponding cortex, or they are just connected to the wrong places. It’s
I look back at all of this as a twisted blessing. Each incident added another brick to my wall. I see pain,
This is part 2 of a 4‑part series. If you haven’t read it yet, click here to read part 1.
Family also leaves an imprint that is difficult to erase. My mom is the second youngest of nine–seven siblings she speaks