You don’t get to pick who you are in this life, but you can decide what you become.

This book is a labor of love. It is dedicated to people who have cried themselves to sleep because they were ‘different’. It is also a celebration of the ‘inner outcast’ in all of us,...

….stood there and watched and didn’t do a thing to help me.

….you can overcome sadness, loneliness, even terrible loss. But guilt goes with you the grave.

What a desperate, pathetic fool I was. Time after time, my “friends” had shown me their true colors. Yet, I still wanted to believe they were sorry for causing me pain. p. 128