Deep, world-stopping, blanketing shame. Shame that slices. That makes one feel impossibly small and permanently suspended, in space, in time, in life. That makes me wonder if I’m worth other people’s worry. Shame so consuming, it paralyzes my heart, my voice, my mouth. It takes a few attempts to start talking again, for thoughts to become words, for words to become sound. “After the revival at Volition, I felt so… so abandoned. My mom was gone, and my ancestors couldn’t help me, and I—” My eyes
