I know there's no way I can convince you this is not one of their tricks, but I don't care; I am me. My name is Valerie. I don't think I'll live much longer, and I wanted to tell someone about my life. This is the only autobiography I'll ever write, and God - I'm writing it on toilet paper. I was born in Nottingham in 1985. I don't remember much of those early years, but I do remember the rain. My grandmother owned a farm in Tuttlebrook, and she used to tell me that God was in the rain. I passed my 11th lesson into girl's grammar. It was at school that I met my first girlfriend. Her name was Sara. It was her wrists. They were beautiful. I thought we would love each other forever. I remember our teacher telling us that it was an adolescent phase people outgrew. Sara did. I didn't. In 2002, I fell in love with a girl named Christina. That year I came out to my parents. I couldn't have done it without Chris holding my hand. My father wouldn't look at me; he told me to go and never come back. My mother said nothing. But I had only told them the truth. Was that so selfish? Our integrity sells for so little, but it is all we really have. It is the very last inch of us, but within that inch, we are free.
I know there's no way I can convince you this is not one of their tricks, but I don't care; I am me. My name is Valerie. I don't think I'll live much longer, and I wanted to tell someone about my life. This is the only autobiography I'll ever write, and God - I'm writing it on toilet paper. I was born in Nottingham in 1985. I don't remember much of those early years, but I do remember the rain. My grandmother owned a farm in Tuttlebrook, and she used to tell me that God was in the rain. I passed my 11th lesson into girl's grammar. It was at school that I met my first girlfriend. Her name was Sara. It was her wrists. They were beautiful. I thought we would love each other forever. I remember our teacher telling us that it was an adolescent phase people outgrew. Sara did. I didn't. In 2002, I fell in love with a girl named Christina. That year I came out to my parents. I couldn't have done it without Chris holding my hand. My father wouldn't look at me; he told me to go and never come back. My mother said nothing. But I had only told them the truth. Was that so selfish? Our integrity sells for so little, but it is all we really have. It is the very last inch of us, but within that inch, we are free.
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