I used to think that living with homosexuality was the worst possible trial that God could give someone. Level one trials were like having a bad day at work. Level two trials were like having a bad job in the first place. Level three, breaking up with a girlfriend. And so on, up and up the ladder of my brain until you reach the pinnacle of mortal trials.

I would have traded my life with anyone, because I honestly thought that I had the worst life in the world. Any trial would have been better. Cancer? At best, you live and are cancer-free. At worst, you die early or live a long, drawn out, painful life. Starvation? Same story. Abject poverty? More of the same. But nothing compared with my life. In my mind, no one could really understand or empathize because, in my mind, R 8< _ ARHt :.N* yE q6k * 9FmF{R
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