I only have one picture of my life before coming to live with the Venatori. It was a picture my Nanny took with her old Polaroid camera. It’s yellowing, the corners are bent and the edges are a little singed from a mishap when I was only a few years older than I was in the picture.
I do keep a diary of sorts. It’s not the type that you read but it’s still something I only let my therapist see. On rare occassion, I’ll let someone special take a peak.
I will admit I had to look up the word to make sure it meant what I thought it did. I really don’t have anything to rant over. I mean there are many things I don’t agree with within the Venatori but I’m not exactly vehement about it.
I’m a loud, obnoxious “kid” who has a problem killing monsters. I want people to think I’m not afraid of anything. That words don’t hurt and that my skin is thick and I’m invulnerable. But that’s sadly not the case.
There is always someone who has to make a comment. And really there is no comment about my person that someone can say that bothers me except one. “Oh, so you are gay?”
