Another Wonderful Day In Paradise
By Karen J. Taylor
Copyright 2008
Driving to work this morning, the traffic sucked, as it usually does in the Metroplex. I made up some time once I got past the inevitable fender-bender that had slowed everybody down; and arrived at work only a few minutes late. Joe, my supervisor, was waiting for me when I walked in.
“My office, please, Sharon.”
As soon as we got in and sat down I started to apologize. “Look, Joe, I’m sorry I’m late, there was an accident on the LBJ that slowed things way down. You know I’m normally on time or even a bit early . . .” I wound down when he held up a hand.
“Look, there is no easy way to say this, I’m letting you go.”
“Why?” I was stunned, I’d always had good reviews, and got along with the customers.
“Well, with the economy slowing down, advertisers are cutting back. Several of your accounts have taken hits.”
“There is nothing I can do about that, Joe. You know I work damn hard keeping those people.”
“Yes, I know,” he replied. “But I just can’t afford to keep everybody. Somebody had to go, and you’re it.”
“But I’ve been here longer than some of those guys,” I said, waving my arm to indicate the room outside, “Why me?
“You’re single, they’ve all got families to support.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Life isn’t fair, I’m sorry. Look here’s your paycheck, I paid you through today; plus two weeks severance pay.”
“What about my vacation time? Don’t I get paid for that?”
“I’m sorry, no. With all the time you’ve been out sick and for medical treatment, I can’t pay you that.”
Just then there was a knock at the door and Donna, our receptionist came in carrying a box with the stuff from my desk. “Here’s your stuff, Karen,” and thrust the box at me.
“What, just like that, and I’m out the door?”
“It’s better this way, quick and painless. I want to remind you of the non-competition clause in your contract . . .” He fell silent as I glared at him, too upset to say a word.
I walked out of his office and headed for the front door, noticing I was the object of furtive looks. Very little pity or sympathy was evident on their faces, so I held my head high and choked back the tears that were trying to force their way out. “Painless” — hah!
“So he let you go, huh?” Steve, one of the nicer of my (former!) coworkers asked.
“Yeah,” I grunted while trying to shift the box and my purse around enough to get the door, which none of them even offered to open for me.
“Well ain’t that too bad,” Kenny, the office asshole snickered. “Maybe next time we can hire a real woman.”
I glared at Donna, in whom I’d confided my transsexual status some months before. She looked a bit embarrassed, and mouthed a “sorry” to me. Dragging what was left of my dignity up from around my ankles, I fired back at him, “Sure, then they can hire some real men!”
Leaving the rest laughing at him, I quickly walked to the parking lot, put the box in the trunk, and headed out.
Traffic leaving the city was much lighter, and in next to no time I was pulling into my driveway. That was one thing I didn’t have to worry about, I owned the house free and clear.
Going in through the garage I dumped the box by the door, I’d sort it later. Looking around, I decided it was time to do some serious cleaning, something that needed doing and would keep me occupied.
By mid afternoon, the house was clean, and I was not, so I stripped off and took a shower. While I was toweling off it occurred to me that I could head down to the restaurant, Melissa ought to be working. Melissa was an attractive woman who’d started at the restaurant about two months before. We’d become pretty friendly with each other and often when I’d go in she’d take a break and we’d sit and talk. We were very similar in many ways, and I suspected she was secretly a lesbian like myself, but I’d been too afraid to find out.
She’d often commented how lovely my hair was, so I took some extra care to make it look good. I pulled back the sides and secured them with a matching tortoiseshell comb set, then braided them together in the back. The rest I left hanging down, almost to my waist now, just giving the bottom some curl and bounce. A little of this, some of that, and I was ready to go. I thought perhaps tonight I would finally talk to her frankly, see if she shared my feelings.
As I walked out, I grabbed the mail and quickly thumbed through it. One piece that caught my attention was a letter from the attorney handling my mom’s affairs. “Better look at this,” so I ripped it open and pulled out the letter. A few seconds later I’d ripped up the letter and tossed the pieces on floor, than pounded on the steering wheel in frustration. It was short and to the point. Acting on the instructions of my brother, who was the new executor and held power of attorney for mom since my oldest brother died in a car accident, I was instructed not to attempt to visit or contact my mother or step on the grounds of the nursing home where she was living. If I did, I would be charged with trespassing and harassment.
I knew this hadn’t come from my mother. Her once sharp mind was just a shadow of what it had been, and most days she couldn’t even remember I’d been born her son instead of her daughter. Well, the BFH (Brother From Hell) had finally gotten his way, and succeeded in foisting off his narrow, bigoted views on the rest of the family. No doubt anybody else who took my side would suffer the same ostracism that had been imposed on me.
I ranted and raved for several minutes, then decided this would be better done on a full stomach, and with maybe a few drinks, so I headed for the restaurant.
My eyes were still adjusting from the bright sunlight when I heard my name called. I turned and saw Melissa smiling and waving at me, motioning me to a booth in the back of the restaurant. My heart went “thump” as I waved back and headed towards her. By the time I got to the booth there was a cold glass of ice tea waiting for me.
“You’re early today, get the day off?” she asked as I sat down.
“You could say that, I got let go.”
“Oh honey, I’m so sorry!”
She reached across and took my hand as I tried to stifle the small sob that escaped me. Up to now I’d been running on nerves, but seeing her and feeling her hold my hand, I just wanted to break down in her arms and bawl.
I pulled myself together after a moment and told her, “I’ll be okay, it’s not the first time I’ve been laid off. I’ll find another job.”
“You could always work here, we need good waitresses. We could work together!”
We chatted for a few more minutes, all the while she was holding my hand; it felt so nice. I decided to go for broke.
“I was thinking of maybe going out this evening, catch a movie, have a drink or two. Would you go out with me?”
“Go out with you . . . you mean like the two of us . . . you and I . . . like a date?”
“Yes, that’s what I mean.“
“You think that I’m . . . you . . . you like me . . . like that!” She pulled her hand back so fast it was like she was touching a flame. I nodded.
“That’s just disgusting! What do you think I am, a pervert? Oh my God, you are one, aren’t you!”
She jumped up from the booth and quickly moved away while I sat there in shock. I was still sitting there a few minutes later trying to figure out how I could have been so wrong when the manager came up and asked me to leave and “please don’t come back. It will save you a lot of embarrassment.”
I don’t even remember driving home. I went inside and sat down at the computer, numbly going to my favorite website. But nothing there was even remotely appealing, all the stories right now seemed to be about children, or women like me who fell in love with men. Ugh! That thought was revolting.
Then I saw the new email icon pop up, so I opened my mail account. There was an email from the BFH, I wondered what now.
It’s still here if you want to read it, but he just had to crow about finally getting the better of me and putting me out of the family. After calling me an abomination and a few other crypto-christian names, he said that he’d already taken steps to erase me from the family tree. He bragged that he’d gone through the family albums mom had and removed every single picture of me. “With her memory the way it is, she won’t even know you existed a month from now!”
I got up and walked away from the computer, and wandered around the house for a bit before deciding to get the laundry done and things picked up. I even washed the clothes I was wearing, slipping on a nice nightie that came down to mid-thigh, nothing too sexy but comfortable.
Then I stepped into the bathroom and carefully removed my makeup and scrubbed my face until it was clean. Restoring everything to its proper place, I pulled out my bottles of medication, Halcion and Prozac. Sleeping pills and anti-depressants, the modern girls’ little helpers. I washed them down with a glass of water from the tap, then came back in here to the computer.
I’m starting to get sleepy now; funny, they say most women who kill themselves use pills or poison. At least I’d gotten something right. Either one should be a lethal amount, I wonder how long it will take?
I’ll save this, and then go in to bed. I’ve got The Carpenters on my MP3 player, and I know just what song I want to listen to.
I'll say goodbye to love
No one ever cared if I should live or die
Time and time again the chance for love has passed me by
And all I know of love is how to live without it
I just can't seem to find it
So I've made my mind up . . .
Comments
This does not sound like an ending!
Karen J; Please donot let her die, this story has to have more to it, Please! Richard
Richard
ADMIN PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DELETE THIS!!
/
What borders on stupidity?
Canada and Mexico.
.
Unfair comments
Liaka,
In our world there is the unfortunate truth that this story adequately illustrates. It is realistic poignant and heart rending. The worst part of it is that it is so truthful. I have been at this very point so many, many times. If anything needs to be removed it is quite simply your unfair comment.
Nothing in Life is Free; if the cost is not monetary it will be physical, emotional, or spiritual.
Rachel Anne
Nothing in Life is Free; if the cost is not monetary it will be physical, emotional, or spiritual.
Rachel Anne
misunderstanding
Rachel Anne,
I wasn't saying to remove the story. I wouldn't do that even with a story that
I hated or found offensive; and I found Karen's story very powerful, and important.
The original comment praised Karen's story. But I also (I felt...) came off as personally
strident + preachy in it, so I erased the text I'd written and asked to have THE COMMENT
removed. I do that a lot, and administration---God Bless Em---usually indulges me.
This one they didn't catch. You didn't know this, and if a reviewer WERE calling
for the removal of a story (unless the story was pedophile smut or something),
I would very much join you telling the would be censor to stuff it.
~~~hugs, Laika
What borders on stupidity?
Canada and Mexico.
.
Actually
Rachel, the comment Laika left was favorable and made several good points. I don't know why she edited them out and asked for her comment to be removed, but I had no problem with it. She is not asking for the story itself to be deleted.
Thank you for your kind words, I'm glad you liked the story.
Karen J.
"Being a girl is wonderful and to torture someone into that would be like the exact opposite of what it's like. I don’t know how anyone could act that way." College Girl - poetheather
"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin
Sounds Like One To Me, Richard...
Truth is, I expected to see more of this kind of thing after the "worst day of your life" challenge. (And I didn't expect to read much of it myself, however well written. As someone else noted, some of us are perfectly capable of getting ourselves depressed without this kind of help. Of course, that doesn't mean downer stories shouldn't be posted. It just makes them less popular, I think.)
Karen did leave a couple of ways out, Richard, short of bringing in a complete deus ex machina. One is Steve, the only sympathetic character in the office. The other is whoever Sharon's addressing in telling her story: "[the note's] still here if you want to read it..." Apparently she's expecting someone (from her story site, I guess) to physically come by and find her body.
But no, I'm not expecting Karen to pick up the story from here...
Eric
Heavy
As hard as it was to read the story, it gives one pause, to see that a really stressful day could do someone in. I have my family and I have wonderful friends, that I couldn't get to that point in life. Karen, heavy dudette! Great read, though it was a thought provoker.
*HUGS*
Robi
*HUGS*
Robi
The Power Over Life and Death...
is what we have at our fingertips when we write about a stressed out protagonist on the road to destruction. In this story though, the road to destruction was not of Sharon's making, but the making of those around her, and her brother. The thing is to make the story realistic enough to be believable. There have been many transgendered that have taken their own lives, and have even left a note saying why. This story is actually finished, and stands on its own as what life can be like for some of us that are transgendered. Thank you for sharing, and this story is a stand alone and complete.
Be strong, because it is in our strength that we can heal.
Love & Hugs,
Barbara
"With confidence and forbearance, we will have the strength to move forward."
Love & hugs,
Barbara
"If I have to be this girl in me, Then I have the right to be."
That sucked
That was my first reaction, my stupidity for not reading the header. It changed my whole mood which had been quite pleasant for the evening. Working through it I realized it was only a mirror of past issues I had worked through having been at that same precipace several times much earlier in my life until a partner cast me into a circle and made me swear before the Gods I believe in that I would never take my own life.
Things change when instead of romancing death it is taken off the table. You deal with the other options. You take inventory of your strengths and plusses recognizing that at least since you are at the bottom that things have to get better and go to sleep with hope that tomorrow will be better in some small way.
Running for the exit can become a habitual reflex to discomfort.
Taking your own life is not a coping mechanism.
A critic once said good writing evokes emotion, this forced me to revisit some things I had put behind me, hence my initial reaction. Thanks for reminding me of how immeasurably better my life has become since then, I have much to be thankful for.
Paradise?
I feel for Sharon. I can understand why she wants to suicide. It's sad when the family shuns a T.G. especially using religion to support their hatred. I am a Christian, but NOT one of those narrow minded bigots.
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
yep, that could
go in the bad day challenge. All the little snipes and petty belittlings, the in your face 'abominations' and then you get dumped on like that and the ol' black hole doesn't look so dark or deep, almost warm compared. The worst part of this one is that there seems to be a definite lack of the 'oh what did we miss' types. Will anyone mourn or is it a universal shrug, oh well. God I hope she left the house to the local soup kitchen or something. Sigh...
Kristina
Living Well Is The Best Revenge
I've always liked the quote in the title of this comment. I'm not entirely sure what it means, but I intend to find out.
Pippa
I've lived that quote and I can tell you it is the biggest lie since, "The checks in the mail."
Angela Rasch (Jill M I)
Angela Rasch (Jill M I)
Another Wonderful Day
Richard, sorry, this is all you get.
Laika, I'm sorry you decided to delete your comment, you made some excellent points.
MsChristine, sorry I spoiled your evening, I did try to do a full disclaimer in the header. I didn't see a tag for "suicide" so I made my own, I knew this story was not the upbeat stories that have been popular lately, but I wasn't in an upbeat mood.
Stan, the title is from a pharse I picked up somewhere, the girl at the convience store where I get my caffiene fix each day always asks how my day is going, and I almost always reply "Just another wonderful day in Paradise". Where I got it, I haven't a clue.
Kristina, this wasn't specifically written for the challange, but you are right.
This story came out of a very bad day Friday. No, I didn't get fired or disinheritied or anything, but pretty much all of it is based on something that has happened to me in the last few months. Of course, you have to allow for "artistic license". :-)
As Barbara Lynn said, I had to make the events realisitc enough to be believable. Nothing here was strong enough by itself to break her down, but one on top of the other it was. Add in the implied health issues she was dealing with - the medical treatments, the sleeping pills and the Prozac (all of which come straight from my life) and she just reached her breaking point. I tried to work out the POV by having her leave the story behind on her computer, even going so far as to save it to her HD, so that people would know what brought her to that point. Finger-pointing from beyond the grave - "You did this to me!".
Like Cindy in "Happiness Or A Warm Gun", Sharon is very much a part of me, fictionalized and put down in words. I dislike the tag "autobiographical" when it is applied to fiction, but that is very much what this story is.
I'm glad this story has struck a note with y'all, helps validate the way I felt at the time I wrote it.
Karen J.
"Being a girl is wonderful and to torture someone into that would be like the exact opposite of what it's like. I don’t know how anyone could act that way." College Girl - poetheather
"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin
A hard story well told
One thing that struck me as I read this is we see here just a snapshot of Sharon's life, and a slanted one at that. We see it only through her eyes and perceptions; I'm not trying to say the hardship and pain weren't all too real, but we don't know enough about her to say that's all she had in her life -- it was just all she could could see at the moment she made that terrible, final decision.
I've shared this before; someone very special to me, my sister-in-law, committed suicide at the age of 28. I'd known her for since she was around 9 or 10, and she was as dear to me as if she were my own sister. I've often wondered if she had a day like Sharon's, a day where the pain got to be too much, the struggle too hard, and she just couldn't see any other way. It doesn't mean there was no other way, but in that horrible, bleak moment she couldn't see it.
I'm sorry for the troubles that inspired this story for you, Karen, but I'm glad you had this avenue to exorcise them.. This should be taken as a cautionary tale I think, both for those who might contemplate such a thing and for those who might believe they never would. Everyone has a breaking point, no matter how strong they are -- but suicide is never the way to deal with it. In the note my sister left, she spoke of how it was better this way, that everyone would soon forget her and we would be better off with her gone. She was very, very wrong.
A very poignant, well told tale of anguish, Karen.
Scott
-- Moliere
Bree
The difference between fiction and reality? Fiction has to make sense.
-- Tom Clancy
http://genomorph.tglibrary.com/ (Currently broken)
http://bree-ramsey314.livejournal.com/
Twitter: @genomorph
I got to read a draft before Karen posted.
This is pretty much like it with a few minor changes.
When Karen's muse takes off, all I can say is wow!
I have heard that suicide is often a spur of the moment decision, often added by heavy drinking in the hours before. A person may have terrible problems in their life but are coping then all at once several things go wrong simultaniously and it overwhelms them.
Scott is right in that the suicide thinks they will not be missed or that their passing will make life better for those left behind. They are wrong, tragically wrong but in that state of mind you can't think of another way out.
Wonderful stuff Karen. I hope my emailed comments helped but frankly this one was 99.44% pure as it was, you simply took it to 99.999%.
Gives me the willies reading it.
John in Wauwatosa
John in Wauwatosa
You're right, Scott
In this case, the story is really Sharon's suicide note, and as such has a very personal perspective. Part of the POV I referred to earlier. As has been discussed before concerning how you get a first-person narration from a dead person, I chose to have her sit down at her computer and write this out while waiting for the pills to take effect. At that time she closes it out, saves it to her HD, and goes in to lie down and wait for the end.
What you said about suicide matches what I've read, Scott. The person doing it doesn't see it as an option, they see it as the only option. When I worked at the police department I had some training in handling 911 suicide calls, and that's what they told us to do - try to get the person to see there are still other options available they may not have thought of or considered.
The one place we differ just a bit is that I can conceive of some certain limited circumstances where death is the best option, but they are extreme situations not likely to occur to 99.99999999999% of us.
I'm sorry for your loss, Scott. Sometimes people just don't know how to reach out for the love and support that is there, and everybody loses.
Karen J.
"Being a girl is wonderful and to torture someone into that would be like the exact opposite of what it's like. I don’t know how anyone could act that way." College Girl - poetheather
"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin
I don't think we differ really Karen
When I said suicide is never the way to deal with it, I really was speaking of emotional and mental anguish. I could conceive of circumstances as well; having spent the last four years helping to care for a victim of Alzheimer's, well I just don't know what I might do if I were diagnosed with that horrid affliction.
At my sister-in-law Ginger's memorial service, the church was so packed people were standing in the foyer. Of course many were there to show support for the family, but there were two young women who drove all the way from Gainesville to attend, and when they told us why, it was the most moving thing I had ever heard. They worked at a deli in Gainesville that Ginger frequented, and they said whenever she came in she was always so cheerful and friendly it just made their day a little brighter. That's the real tragedy; we, from our own limited perspective of the world we move through never truly understand just how many lives we touch, we can never know if the little smile and "Hello" we gave someone in passing was exactly the thing they needed to hear at that moment. Maybe if just one person, one total stranger had said something nice to Sharon, her story might have ended very differently.
Scott
-- Moliere
Bree
The difference between fiction and reality? Fiction has to make sense.
-- Tom Clancy
http://genomorph.tglibrary.com/ (Currently broken)
http://bree-ramsey314.livejournal.com/
Twitter: @genomorph
Only Too Believable
The feeling of isolation; nobody cares; the world will be better off without me; I'm worthless anyway, etc,etc. I guess most of us have come close at some time or other. How to put this? This was a cautionary tale and has its place on BC among the generally upbeat stories that we all seem to love to read. I'm glad you wrote it. It's like seeing a movie like "The Killing Fields" or "Schindler's List", tales that had to be told but leave you coming out of the cinema shaken to the core, not happy or uplifted, knowing that the experience that you just had was worthwhile.
I think your title came from a Phil Collins song of the early nineties.
Anyway, well done,
Sob,
Joanne
gak, i need a drink now
man, that was depressing. really depressing.
not as think as i smart i am
Like seeing slices of my life
I've been fighting the urge to suicide since I was 8 or 9 years old. It's a wonder I am still here since I failed 3 times that I can actually remember. A very moving story.
Powerful Stuff!
a very difficult tale well told.
hugs,
Angharad
Angharad
I wish I could say that I hate stores like this.
I don't. I think it is well to remember, for anyone who has pain, how close we are to danger.
I found this story had a very powerful device. The pain she felt was glairing, while her
decision was so calm and so quiet. I'm sure that there is more more to this story, but that
it would have to be told by others. I don't care as much about them, or any of the BFH's in
this world
Thank you Karen.
Sarah Lynn
I've been feeling pretty good lately
until yesterday, when some bitch asked me, "Are you a transvestite?" She kept asking my name, poked me in the right tit and said, "You've got tits but you've got a deep voice, you're tall and got big arms, you must be a tranvestite; I've seen them on tele."
I told her that my mother was big too but it didn't seem to sink in. I also told her that my passport and birth certificate both say I'm female and my name is Susan but she wouldn't let it go. I'm not sure what she was on. My daughter would have decked her if she'd been there. I should have just walked away but I don't think quickly. That's the first time it's happened to me.
I can understand how one discriminatory setback could have you thinking of suicide but Sharon had the entire library, let alone the book, thrown at her. Not everyone is strong enough to withstand this sort of thing.
I don't see this story continuing; but I think it is a lesson in consequences.
Susie
A Word Of Warning
In some cases, when you're approached by an insulting, apparently-confused, or over-curious stranger, or someone not respectful of the usual "personal space" that you're used to, IT'S A RUSE!!
Pickpockets and "dips" have been known to create peculiar distractions in the course of plying their profession. They also sometimes work in teams of two or more.
In all probability, this encounter was just some moron* who watches too much tv, has a very low inhibition level and possibly one of the syndromes on the autism spectrum.
Next time, though, secure your purse, take a step back, take a hard look around making eye contact with anyone you see, acting as if you suspect something is going on, and try to move into some open space.
__________
* Not to be confused with: "A person of mild mental retardation having a mental age of from 7 to 12 years and generally having communication and social skills enabling some degree of academic or vocational education. The term belongs to a classification system no longer in use and is now considered offensive." Most of the people I've met who fit into this category were sweet, enthusiastic or seeking approval and friendship and all of them had better interpersonal skills than the person you described.
ODTAA
Such a powerful story, Karen, which beautifully illustrates that old expression, "One Damned Thing After Another", the initials of which were the title of a story written by John Masefield in 1926. I think most of us will have had such beastly days, I know I have, so am able to empathise with Sharon.
Thank you for posting such a thought-provoking, if somewhat uncomfortable story.
Trans-Pond hugs,
Gabi
Gabi.
A very powerful story. But
A very powerful story. But damn, I wish I'd noticed that 'suicide' tag. Ouch.
A sad one
I don't know what to say about this one. It feels to me as if she must have been alone for a long time to build up to this.
I know that some people can be very impulsive, but mostly it involves alcohol before it happens, at least when it comes to grown ups. For kids it's different, and of course, also for those already unbalanced by life.
Bigotry and abuse, it all seems to go back to our behavior as 'flock animals' needing to secure our identity using those unfortunates not fitting in our 'flock' as warning examples.
There have been research on f ex. how people choose in front of the unknown, where one was given a choice between something conservative but rather useless, and something non-conservative but 'useful' if you read what it was about. The majority would still choose the conservative choice.
We find our safety inside the flock, and those threatening its habits 'will be prosecuted'. One could think that we should be able to raise above that, but we fail, miserably.
Make sure you have friends if you are in her situation. They are the best vaccine there is, a friend that you dare to speak to.
Very sad one Karen, but it happens. I remember reading about two young ones found hanging at a playground. Both mobbed by their peers. The girl had hung herself first and the boy had waited but then also done the same.
The younger you are, the more prone are you to act on impulses. It's not until around twenty seven? (if I remember right) that the brain is fully 'grown' in all its aspects, able to control those neuro transmitters that can flood our system as we 'fall through' collapsing emotionally.
So a place like this is important from many aspects. Some here know all to well how mobbing works and when they write they prove to those living in that situation that mobbing isn't the end.
And they also present scenarios for what to do and not to do. this place is a most precocious ( and precious :) place in that sense.
I'm sure there are many youngsters reading you here, and I hope they find the stories to help. Like realizing that if Sharon could have taken herself through that night, there would have come a new dawn, with new promises. She only needed someone to call, a friend.
So, most of all, take care of your friends, and make equally sure that they understand that they need to take care of you.
Thoughtful comment
If Connie in "Identity" was overwhelmed by a flood of memories, Sharon was beaten by a steady drip of abuse. Like a rock being worn down by the slow trickle of water, Sharon was worn down by the slow stream of intolerance and hatred, until at the end there was nothing left. In some ways, Sharon's story reflects my life. Sometimes, surrender is the last remaining option. Life sucks and then you die, one way or another.
KJT
"Being a girl is wonderful and to torture someone into that would be like the exact opposite of what it's like. I don’t know how anyone could act that way." College Girl - poetheather
"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin
The reminder at the end of each story doesn't do justice...
....I did not "like" this story at all, but it is likely one of the best I've ever read. I'm so sad over this girl, a character in a story, that I'm crying over her pain...Superb telling of an awful tale....Thank you for this.
Possa Dio riccamente vi benedica, tutto il mio amore, Andrea
Love, Andrea Lena
I know it's an older story
But this was so powerful. It is truly so close the truth. And sadly, this does happen to real people.
Reality Sucks
While I would hesitate to use the tag, there is far more reality in this than there is in most "reality" TV shows. I'm active on fb with some LGBT+ groups and many are trying to define things so their's is the only 'right' group. But its when we draw arbitrary lines and deny the validity of those outside that things like this are more likely to happen, IMHO. We are herd animals, denying somebody's existence as a way of forcing them outside the herd can only be destructive.
"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin