You tell him that you have lived a strange life. Easy in some ways, difficult in others. You are kept awake at night by a rattling shutter you don’t know how to fix. Some days you are so alone, you think you will collapse into a hard and dense rock. You tell him that you wish things were different. That you feel as though you have a sack over your shoulder, heavy and dragging, but you have no idea what’s inside the sack, or who gave it to you. It’s just there. It’s just yours. And you regret so many things. You’ve hurt people, you’ve embarrassed them, you’ve embarrassed yourself. You have made
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