I feel a bit uncomfortable talking about myself.
I don, in fact, think about how I am treated all the time.
My mother, who was a member of the “Haitian resistance” that came to power in 2005, was brutally killed by a military officer for no apparent reason.
My father died from an accidental drug overdose while I was in high school.
My sister, who had a long history of mental illness, committed suicide last year.
In short, I’ve been treated so poorly that I’ve stopped asking about myself because it makes me feel like a monster.
But I think I’m finally beginning to recognize that people are just like me and that we don’t need to make it worse for them.
I have also become more self-aware about my health and have begun to see the need to seek medical attention for myself and for people like me, regardless of their ability to pay.
As I said at the beginning of this piece, I believe that I am unique in that I have been living my life in a way that’s both unique and completely unnecessary.
But that’s not the case for everyone.
People have the power to make life a little better for themselves, but the power also comes with a price tag, and that’s a price I think most people are willing to pay for comfort.