My
dad wasn’t horrible, he was mean when I was younger, but he mellowed
over the years. But for him I was a boy, so he treated me as a boy. This
isn’t his fault; it’s mine for fearing him so much I never told him I’m
not a boy. My fault for not pressing my mom, after briefly telling her I
wanted to be a girl.
Steps is a short, touching recount of childhood memories from Beth.
The dangling participle
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I don't recall which scientist said the following:
"I'd rather have questions unanswered than see answers go unquestioned"
People love certainty which ...
7 hours ago

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