A couple of questions: How much do the events of our youth affect us? I’m not talking about the day it was cold and someone made you walk to school. I’m talking about the jarring, I’ve-been-kicked-in-the-stomach-type things that change your perception of life and family.
How much should we let these things continue to affect us, half a lifetime removed from when they actually happened?
Is it reasonable to hope that things will get better by themselves, or is it best to poke at a problem to let some air out?
What happens when the cover falls off? Generally all hell breaks loose.
To make a long story short, I had a fight picked with me, then I was baited into a second fight. I fought back and knocked the cover off a fifteen-year-old secret that’s helped to shape the second half of my life. I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Angry Liam? There is no Angry Liam.