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

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.