Tim Barrus, New York Times

I am a communist. I ran. I ran away from camp. A religious camp. My actions were not their fault. I ran away from fervid religion. I ran away from religion. I ran away from sex. I ran away from sex. You are thinking: how old is he. In retrospect, forming the skeleton that will hold the story of it, and never well. The sex part of it would be easier as if clinging to those moments where all our second selves could and did hang on if tenuously. Now, voices. At 13, you’re still a bit too young to fathom that there is life after this kind of trauma, I ran from straight to the woods where I had been held down. I lived in the woods. No one could find me unless I emerged, and I had not decided to do that yet. I went home and tried to kill myself. The religious stuff was as destructive as the sex stuff even if rape is not sex. Far from it. What those boys did to me was all my fault. Stop with the rhetoric I was not to blame. Maybe it helps someone else. No advise. I did, indeed, taunt a couple of those boy who stayed to watch in the background, turning from it, now, that was something you will cling to razor edges, and it is usually a mistake. Such as take your fight to the the depression like a man, and the fear would involve lifetimes of despair. How stupid is that. I would run today so far and so fast, the dogs from the nightmares of the graveyards I sleep with, like evil lovers high up the suicidal turrets one jumps from in the hopes you die, vampire eye instantly becomes a culture war argument immersing all religions, even the hateful ones, whom we have foresworn allegiances with In Bondage Fit Tight As A Drunken sailor’s Neck when they hanged my friend in a park. Pants pulled down to his ankles they just said he was a victim and that was that. The issue is Who Is Going To Regulate A Woman’s Body. Focus. Focus.