B— came to my birthday party shortly after I talked to her about the incident in Frederick. I told her my almost-lynching over the phone. I cried, and I used the same voice my therapist once described as being as “vacant as a rape victim’s”.

She had been so surprised it and asked why I didn’t tell her sooner.

In hindsight, I couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t have been comfortable doing so. I’ve always told her everything. My immediate, knee-jerk response to her question was that I didn’t tell her because it felt normal at the time. I thought I had just deserved it.

Her draw dropped. And I was kinda jarred by it, too. I never once had that thought before, but, when I said it, I immediately realized it was the truest sentence I’ve ever told someone.

D— was our next door neighbor in my cup-de-sac in J—. I moved into that house when I was two, and he moved into his house next door when he was three.

We’ve known each other all of our lives.

In comparing myself to him my whole life, my pervasive understanding of myself “Inferior by Default,” through every single life phase.