This book has no cover. The words are written boldly, easily recognizable, easily judged. These words are usually misunderstood. The emotions appear and disappear faster than the ink dries. Some of this dye stains like a tattoo, embedded deeply into my skin. I can't erase these pages. They are here to stay.It took me a long time to mold this clay. These pages are bound. The honesty on these pages is profound. I've hidden my words for most of my life. This book I am writing isn't all about me, but I write it for me. I don't mind you digesting this novel; that's what it's here for. Maybe someone else can read me and see some of these words as their own, feelings that come to the surface; or maybe some letters can be formed into their own words. I have been misread my whole life, but by putting these words onto these pages, at least I'm controlling the narrative. As misunderstood as I am, but at least now I am starting to understand myself. I've been a part of many stories; most don't have happy endings. But even those stories are beautiful. Keep reading. I hope you get something from this book.