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My agony has a hunger, I’ve discovered. It doesn’t want the truth. Not really. It just wants to feed itself sorrow until no other emotion is left.
“No matter what you do, you gotta live your life, kiddo. You gotta be in the world. That’s what she would want you to do.” He reaches across the table to take both of my hands in his. “Don’t make your life about the loss. Make it about the love.”
Two faults. My race and my gender. But they are not faults. They are strength.
