24 partes Concluida "Don't tell anybody about this."
"If you just ignore it, it'll stop."
"There's nothing I can do to help you."
And so I did everything I was told. I shut up. I put on a brave face. I followed all the rules.
But that was the past and it's not who I am anymore.
I will be loud. I will be angry. I will tell the truth.
Look what you've done. You gave me a story to tell.
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Unfortunately, a true story.
DISCLAIMER: This is my side of the story and, with the exception of a few voicemails/text messages/statements from friends, it all comes straight from my memory. As is the case with most PTSD brains, my memory isn't very good so I can't 100% confirm the accuracy of anything, but it is written almost exactly as I remember it. If anyone reading this happens to know something I don't, feel free to let me know.
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Thank you for reading.
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Dedicated to Sketch, and Toto, and Dr. Worm, and Mia, and anyone else (real or imaginary) that I loved, but they hated.
