They asked me where I was from. I answered suburbia. And what brings you to LA? The quest for truth? Like why do we look in the wrong places, the wrong faces for live and acceptance?  Why do we doubt that what was created was true?

The receptionist looked at me askance. I guess they’d never met someone like me before. Someone who was broken and put back together with such fine lines of.glue they weren’t visible to the naked eye. It was only when you got close enough, stuck around long enough, that the cracks were revealed. From afar it appeared that everything about me was intact. That was my skill, my magic power. To keep my real self, my real wounds hidden. So that you’d feel hopeful. And less alone.