On the Run No More

We’re each a product of our experiences, our environment, education and intellect. My “fictitious” mom was a borderline personality who sexually abused me at a very young age. Dad was an alcoholic sex addict who was passive and indifferent. Three severe head concussions and CTE later, I was an atheist and an iconoclast living in a puritanical sectarian society that turned the other cheek when it wasn’t crucifying you. While enlisted in the Navy I endured the looming threat of fictitious ass-greasings and foolishly informed them that I was a fictitious atheist. Life has been fictitious ever since.