The anniversary yesterday is still with me; its shadows at least. I don’t see my life prior through rose-colored glasses by any means, but I do severely miss my poverty-stricken autonomy. Yeah, I’m a millionaire, but that seems to have lessened, not increased my actual freedom, as you/I might envision/hope.
a blog that is also meant to serve as a recovery journal, for this gay, Quaker, writer dealing with t.b.i., from surviving a hate crime in Sligo, Ireland, on 1.31.99.