I set my fork down, knowing I’ve said too much. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I know that I should’ve softened that. I could’ve made something up or omitted parts and made it a nicer version of the truth, but I didn’t want to; I want her to know me for who I am. I don’t want her pity. I just want acceptance. This is my truth. I have entrusted her with it. Now I want to see what she does with it.
