I am in the library, reading a book on Japan for tomorrow's politics class. In a chapter on the role of women in Japense society, the author cites a story of a young girl on a city street who tries not to step on the cracks in the sidewalk, 'which is made to stand for the social grid into which everyone in modern Japan is expected to fit.' The parallel to my life as a gay male is obvious: I am part of this community, of this culture -- certainly not by choice, though I have accepted it -- with a prefab set of standards, expectations, rules and regulations that do not necessarily match up to my needs as an individual. The excerpt continues below.

As she attempted to keep off the cracks that didn't match her natural stride, with every step the child's body recognized the lack of love in a world absolutely indifferent to her -- a lack of love she couldn't accept, nor adapt to, in any way. What she was actually doing now was probing the source of all those hurts that for some reason had steadily become part of her life, day by day, since the very first time her needs -- for a hug, for a suck of the breast -- had gone unmet.