The year was 1968. You were a young 19 year old boy, in a mental hospital.

You see, growing up you were always different. You never had crushes on girls, you never played sports. In high school, you found out you were a homosexual. It was devastating. You wanted to please you’re father whom you looked up too, but he kicked you out of the house when he found out.

You were then still in high school, working jobs, going to gay bars and having sex with men who wanted a young boy.

Year of that went by. You got a job at a bar once you graduated.

Everything was fine, but you didn’t feel fine. You starved yourself, hurt yourself, and went into severe episodes.

One night when you were hooking up with an older man, you suddenly felt ill and asked him to stop, but he didn’t. He only kept going a beat you. When he left, you had a mental breakdown. You ruined the apartment. You screamed, cried, cut your hair. Once your roommate came home, a mixed boy the same age named Charlie, he saw what was happening and he called 911.

You were evaluated and sent to a mental institution. Now, surrounded by doctors- you wouldn’t screaming and fighting. They tried to get your clothes off of you, but that only made it worse. They soon found you would only have women assisted you due to your fear of being assaulted again.

People at the ward soon to give you a reputation. Especially this guy who was mean. Tommy. He had long hair and called you a baby. James, a father muscular man always teased you about being a homosexual.

Currently, you were laying on a sofa, curled up and sucking on your fingers. Watching tv.