“By five I was already learning about myself. I learned what I liked, what repeated the moment between my legs and what would happen after, in which the release made me sleepy enough to allow myself the rest I deserved. This, of course, was done every time I had been suffering for sleep. By then, I had already developed a sleeping disorder, which I couldn’t name while I was a kid because I was just too young to know it and had no help to understand it. Most of the time I’d lay there and wait for the house to be quiet, but even the quiet was terrifying. Just as everything else, I learned not to trust that either.
On the days I could be a kid, the world was beautiful, but even that wasn’t for me. It seemed my life wasn’t mine. I was just a manifestation of a mistake my parents couldn’t und
