Sore Spots

Unflinching Photos of My Psoriasis This is not a gross out blog, or a place for posting home or medical remedies. Psoriasis sucks. The sight of open wounds on a person triggers ancient evolutionary imperatives to avoid that person. I would like to use this journal to write about my experience with that horrific gaze and possibly exorcise my own self loathing and antagonism towards my difficult skin.

I was a happy kid… I think. My mom tells me her dominant memory of me as a little guy was the persistent sound of laughter coming from my room. More than once, my room was little more than a closet, and once, an actual closet. 

My parents divorced when I was ~2-3 years old. After that, my dad would be gone from my life until I was 18. I remember the sense of loss, the fear of the yelling voices, and the loss of security. 

Luckily, I was raised with my uncles and had no lack of powerful men to show me how to be a man. However, my rebellious phase was still extreme. 

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