“I was fourteen the first time I tried to kill myself. This time—the time that got me hospitalized here—was the fifth time I’ve tried…One of these days…I’ll get it right. There is no use in me being here. Nobody has any use for me except as a trick for s*x and then dump me. I’m the worst kind of sinner, right? I need to be put to death, right? Even the stupid psychology books say I’m sick, that there is something wrong with me for feeling what I feel, for being who I am. So I might as well die.” Tears began streaming down his face.
I sat there in shock hearing the last thing he said. I felt like I needed to say something, but I didn’t know what to say. I realized that, although I had suffered, there were others in the world, perhaps more than I knew, who suffered at least as much or more
