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    I didn’t know Bill but I’m thankful that you shared this Gina. It is frightening how, at times in my life, I have identified with some of what Bill felt.

    I hope other people who feel or felt like this can look at is as proof that there are other people out there who live with unescapable darkness in their lives. And while some of us succumb to that darkness, others prevail, finding happiness and love in the world.

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    Michael Crider

    Things like this make me furious. Mr. Zeller’s abuser killed him, just as if he had shot or stabbed him – the fact that it took over two decades for this snake’s venom to finish its grizzly work is irrelevant. I can’t imagine what Zeller went through, so I won’t judge any of the decisions he made. But I wish, I wish, I wish we knew who hurt him so that at least the bastard would have a much harder time hurting others, and the justice system could attempt to stop him. Monsters like him destroy lives.

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    Lola Beno

    I’m thinking of this post that I read the other day.


    Please . . . think of other people. I had a cousin commit suicide years ago, and I know someone whose father committed suicide when my friend was away at college. It’s truly devastating for those left behind.

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    Thanks so much for your take on this — spreading much needed compassion to others who have suffered similarly. It’s so much easier to be quiet and ignore a tragedy like this. But to find a way to do something positive — that’s even more of a gift. I’m doing the same and hope others will as well.

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    Michael Olsen

    Thank you for posting this Gina. It is a difficult, but important, letter to read.

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    Robert Bigelow

    I am fifty years old. I walk and talk softly, tiptoe inside my own apartment, listen to music with my headphones and wait until the next door neighbors’ are gone before switching on the vacuum clearer or washing machine. My footsteps are so soft, I frighten people when I walk up to them, so I gave up walking up to them. Most will never know I have a good speaking voice because I talk so softly. I am uncomfortable accepting gifts and kindness from people and often hesitant to ask, even if someone is being paid to help me. Underneath all that PTSD, anguish and anxiety there is a sweet and gentle human being. Were it not for social media: the dial-in bulletin boards (BBSes), IRC and other forms, I probably would not be here, today. My name is Robert. I am a survivor. ^..^~

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