screaming out your name.

Sometimes, while reading a book, there's a sentence or paragraph that stands up and punches you in the gut. Sometimes, it perfectly encompasses so much of what you want to say to a certain person, or is able to describe what you are feeling or have felt, even more so than you ever could.

I give to you a piece of Craig Clevenger's "Dermaphoria."

"Somewhere there's a part of me that knows right from wrong. That part of me, lying gagged and bound in my mental basement, still has enough breath to whisper out through a spit-soaked gag that I should be protecting you, that if I fail every test of decency known to man, the fallout shouldn't come to you, that you had nothing to do with any of it. If I'm half a man, I should make certain you never know otherwise. I wanted to protect you, and if that made you angry with me, if it meant your never knowing why, then so be it."

This isn't an excuse, just an explanation.