> They said I was sick.
That I needed to be fixed.
That I was... wrong.
> I used to pray.
Every night, on bruised knees, under a wooden cross that watched me like a curse.
I prayed for my feelings to disappear.
I prayed to wake up normal.
> But no matter how many hymns I sang, or how many apologies I whispered to a god I was taught to fear...
I still looked at him.
I still felt something they called a sin.
And I still wanted to be held by someone they’d never accept.
> So they sent me away.
In the back of a van with blacked-out windows.
A suitcase.
A diagnosis.
A sentence.
> Evergreen Mental Health Center.
That’s where “the broken” go.
That’s where they threw me.
> And that’s where I met him.
>Loud, wild, golden-eyed—and nothing like the quiet I knew.
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