When your reality is, or has at some point been, a surrealist fever dream in comparison to your peers, being able to talk about it without othering yourself any further than the experiences themselves have already othered you is a profound talent. A childhood that is made complicated with absent fathers, social anxiety, and poverty is just as valid as any alternative narrative, even if some (or most) would not view it as ideal. The stories of sadness that people grow out of are not always flowers bursting forth from putrid fertilizer, or trees pushing through cement.