If grad school taught me one thing it is to write about what scares me. And for two years I wrote intensively about things that terrify me. I wrote about things I’ve never spoken aloud and I took a fine-tooth comb through the memories I try hardest to white out. But now it’s my feelings and my memories that have scared me out of writing, scared that once I get it down on the page it might be true and once shared it will become something to someone else and they’ll be allowed to do as they please with my many truths. It’s this kind of fear that has kept me from sharing the work I spent two years and $100,000 producing and perfecting, assuming there is such a thing as a perfect truth.