I admit. The things I did not know:
I did not know how to grow up interracial. I did not understand how to be different in a world that demanded simplicity and sameness.
I did not know how to fall in love after eating and sleeping and growing in a house that pushed love away, hid it in the corners, crushed its soul.
I did not know how to get up every morning and go to work in an office, with benefits and meetings. I had not been exposed to such a lifestyle. Expectations that are created by invisible rules rather than by real needs. Real logic and follow-through.
I did not realize how badly I needed to leave that childhood space. How much I had been brainwashed to see my small disheveled life as normal, as everything, as the only thing.
I did not know for sure, although I always suspected, quietly in the back of my mind, that I could have a life that better matched my inner narrative. A life that better fit my expectations of and my reactions to the world.
I did not know. But I know now.