And maybe it was as simple as that—you made compromises for the people you loved. Sometimes they were gifts bestowed on the undeserving—looking after a father who might have cast you out if he knew the truth of who you were. Sometimes they were small—cooking an extra meal and washing some dishes in order to smooth things over for the man you loved. Maybe that was what it took to build a life—the recognition that there was always going to be someone giving and someone taking. It didn’t have to be equal and it didn’t have to even make sense. It could be completely irrational and even misguided,
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