For a while, I decided to settle on the truth dwelling in the middle ground. I grew up in unconventional circumstances, though sometimes one had to look closely to see it. If a stranger in passing had just seen me, all alone, then they wouldn’t know about my father, they wouldn’t know about Casimir, and they wouldn’t know how much I truly knew what it was like to be persecuted for being different. It didn’t take very long for me to realize that the tiny beast of normality had been locked up in a cage. People had every right in the world to call me different. Yet I learned such a valuable lesson from differences that I would always think twice before judging someone else. I was adopted, and didn’t know who my parents were; nor was it a top priority to find out. I was randomly discovered in a hospital room. My father was a homosexual, but that didn’t change the fact that he loved me very much. I was friends with a boy who had never gone to school with other children.