At best I was sidekick, a supporting actor. At worst, I was an extra in my own life. Then there were the deleted scenes, left on the cutting room floor of my memory. In these I was still the same guy, laughing a little too loudly, perhaps, after a joke at my expense. I cringed as I replayed these fleeting moments which now read as minor humiliations. A guy from the rowing team dry humping me in the locker room, dick heads zipping my sleeping bag to another guy’s at a slumber party.
Hellish
