Palmer Avenue, 1989

I’ve decided to start sharing my private journal with you. This is an entry I have kept private for years. I never intended to share it. It is too personal. The names have been changed in order to avoid needless drama. But I’ve begun to panic thinking about dying and having so much of my past wither away under the manicured lawns of my local cemetery. I’d like to plant my journal in a garden somewhere and let it grow. I am no longer afraid of its thorns, snakes, or magic rabbit holes. These are my stories.

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