Voices

Not every victim speaks out, and few actually report the crime to the authorities. If a friend happens to trust you with this information, it’s your duty as a human being to be there for them in every way possible.

I am at the bar, working on a piece about kids’ books, while my wife stays home to mind the baby. The lady next to me strikes up a conversation about this and that. Then she notices that I’m still casually clutching a copy of Guess How Much I Love You?

You were on the back burner — I thought you were Type 2, manageable, no big deal — which goes to show just how deeply I’d slid into denial. But there’s no denial here anymore. Just statistics and medical terms floating around in my brain, reminding me that I can’t afford to forget you, that you’re too “severe” for that.

I wanted to keep people at a distance. I wanted sympathy and validation. I believed that I was inherently unworthy. However, lately, I’ve begun to change my mind — or rather, it’s started to change on its own.

For years, I didn’t know I was hearing voices. When it started to happen, it felt like someone else’s thoughts were being inserted into my mind, shouting at me, undermining my reality — impossible to control.

In STI support communities, many refer to the person who gave them herpes as their “gifter.” This might sound strange, since I’m sure a sexually transmitted disease is not a gift anyone wants. But, looking back on my past nine months with herpes, I think this is an apt term.

In STI support communities, many refer to the person who gave them herpes as their “gifter.” This might sound strange, since I’m sure a sexually transmitted disease is not a gift anyone wants. But, looking back on my past nine months with herpes, I think this is an apt term.

If I have sex with a woman, it does not make me gay. As someone who identifies as female, it doesn’t even make me a lesbian.