I grew up on the high plains in Wyoming.
There were three of us: My mentally unstable and deeply angry mother, my cold and distant stepfather, and me. We never saw Yellowstone or any of the vacation spots people associate with Wyoming; we never even went to a movie. (My mother did take me to see the original Star Wars in 1977, when I was 10.)
Friends came and went, but nobody stayed. I had lots of cousins in Ohio, and counted the days until our visits home every year. One year we did not go because there was no money for the trip, and I thought I would die from disappointment.
One year I got a bicycle for Christmas. Look at the picture above and tell me, what the hell was I supposed to do with a bike? The nearest town was 25 miles away.
I now live in a city of millions, but isolated by choice. I don’t know how to make and keep friends. I’m tired of trying.
I never had children, because my only objective in life has been to find love, and until recently, failed to do so.
This public, anonymous journal is my attempt to articulate my thoughts and get them out of my head. Maybe I will find others with similar struggles, but if I don’t, maybe it will help in other ways. I hope to tell my story in a way that will help others. Otherwise, what’s the point?