Prologue
I don’t know why I was born, I was born this race, color, height and weight. I don’t know why I was gifted and cursed with this sexuality and this brain. I was always told I’m intelligent, that I’m talented, that I can do anything if I put up my mind on. But that as everyone comes to discover is a lie. From a very young age I’ve come to realize that my socioeconomic status left much to be desired. I would always promised a plethora of things in exchange for good academic performance, a PlayStation 2 and a bike are two I remember from the top of my mind, and I’ve never played God of war or learned how to ride a bike. To add insult to injury I always felt different growing up, acted different, thought different. I was always the gentle angel kid who never did anything wrong, and how much I despised made no difference. I was expected to act a certain way and I just did I suppose, who am I to judge a 5 year old. A few months earlier I’ve met a book editor in New Orleans, and he told me my story is interesting, that I was interesting, and that my story deserves to be told, and as much as my self-deprecating impulses would like me to stop, my absolute boredom and sleep deprivation through this awful month of hunger and house arrest are pushing me forward. My name is Daniel, or my pen name is at least, I was born in a small town you never heard off in the small country of Tunisia which you just heard of. I was born in a small Muslim family, assumed myself to be straight, until I fell in love with a man in America. As Typical as this story may seem and as annoying as Kurt Vonnegut-esque style may seem, they said my story deserves to be told, so here I am telling it to the random stranger or the internet bot parsing this. These words have stemmed from the void within me, and hopefully to the void they shall go.
