my life, in boxes

which substantially better than being in pieces.

So we're moving once again. I knew this place wasn't going to be permanent, but it still sucks nonetheless. While my life hasn't been the best (and far from the worst) I've been through more than many fifty year olds. I haven't been shot at physically, but I have been shot at verbally and emotionally from both peers and respected adults. I haven't been in a war, but I've fought many a battle within as well as with others who betrayed me. Before I turned eighteen, I had moved more than a dozen times, lived in two foster homes, been told (and made to believe) being gay was wrong and a sin, was forced to use church as an escape from my hellish home life, and the list could go on and on. Well I'm going to discuss this with my counselor, and although it won't be easy, we're going to try to piece together my fragmented life.

Keep an eye out for more news as time goes on.