When I was young, I lived a nightmare, and was myself sometimes a nightmare. In 30 Paragraphs: A Memoir, I’ve tried to capture both the nightmare I lived and the nightmare I was–not punitively, to trap them, but to give them a new home.
Excerpt:
What I remember most distinctly is not any single act, but rather the sensation I felt, both empty and vast, as I watched what people did to me…I was comfortable in that vastness, and afraid of it, and I hated it, and yearned toward it, but not toward it, exactly, but toward people I thought might be familiar with it, as my grandfather seemed to be, and willing to inflict it.