Life is an onion – you peel it year by year and sometimes cry.
True friends chop the onions and cry together.
Reality, it seems, is not a flat plane, but has as many veils as an onion has skins.
Like the layers of an onion, under the first lie is another, and under that another, and they all make you cry.
The shame, embarrassment, feeling of low self-worth, and scores of “labels” we give ourselves are not fitting. I am beginning to see how I had no control over the situation. He was a big man, I was a little boy.