From rebunting's journal:

I want you to remember that you don't have the whole story. You don't know everything that happened, you don't know what it was like to live what I lived.

I want to have those two simple sentences printed on some business cards that I can hand out every time I get one of those looks from one of my friends.

Nobody knows the whole story of what happened to me. Only two people really even come close, and they only know what I was able to describe. Most of what went on defied description even while it was happening, and now it's all blurred by the passage of time and the imperfect memory a brain has for what a heart feels. Felt. Whatever. Fuck.

So people roll their eyes at me, or they chuckle at me, or they shake their heads at me.

And I bite my tongue, and I wish I shared their ignorance.