My childhood was informed entirely by feeling, looking, and lamenting my differences, and I was a charged, noxious bundle of extreme anxiety and self-loathing. I thought the world was a deadening, terrible hellhole from which there was no escape besides my myriad creative outlets, which included writing, drawing, theater, choir, dance, and music.
Other Try Guys: our childhood was mostly normal and we turn out okay, afterall.
Eugene:
