There's a guy, Eric, here who's confused about his sexuality.

He would rather dress as a woman but here in the mental health care FACILITY, the options are limited. We are not exactly a hotbed of fashion.

Back home, he has wigs, dresses.

You don’t ask why a person is in here. Information may be given, but is never requested. If someone asks you a direct personal question, you either answer it immediately or stare at them angrily until an orderly comes over.

I’m getting close with the orderlies. Kyle is my favorite.

The less you talk, I’m finding, the more people want to talk to you. That’s how I know all this shit about Eric. He told me flat out. I’m like, “So are you gay or…”

“No,” he said. “I’m attracted to women. I just want to be one. There’s no room for me, a guy who likes women but wants to be one, too.”

“What about that guy Bruce Wayne? He was all up in the media recently. He dresses like a woman.”

“Bruce Wayne? You mean Superman?”

“Maybe.”

We looked at each other, knowing instinctively we had it wrong somehow.

There are two kinds of people in here: those I have met and talked to and those I haven’t.

I prefer those I have met and talked to.