It’s a strange feeling, having people know about my SSA. Partly strange in that it is not strange. When I was fourteen and very far from being used to the whole thing, the idea of anybody else knowing, EVER, about what I then considered to be a shameful secret, was pure terror.
Now, not so much. It would have been different when I was fourteen and so were my friends, but by the time you’re in you’re late twenties, a friend telling you about something that’s wrong with him1 shouldn’t be surprising. You are broken? Oh. So am I. So is everyone I know.
Some old friends have come across the blog. I don’t object, not at all. Dear A.(I mean, F.) and N. and J. and anybody else who’s discovered this, recognized me, and is worried about letting me know, please don’t be. I saw this coming, and if you knew enough about my life to have known it was me, then you knew most of the important bits already.
Then again, maybe you just recognized the shape of my nose? I do have a very distinctive nose.