From Shame to Shape: Moulding the Man I Became
I used to think shame was the end of the story.The silence after the headline. The part where you disappear.But
I used to think shame was the end of the story.The silence after the headline. The part where you disappear.But
You know the meme.But you don’t know the man. I’m Billy Coull, and depending on where you first heard my
I don’t remember the exact moment I broke.Not the headlines. Not the arrest. Not the memes.It wasn’t one single thing.It
There’s a kind of silence no one warns you about.It doesn’t come from trauma.It comes after it. When the headlines
Redemption implies return.As if I’ve clawed my way back to some former version of myself.As if the goal was to
know what you think of me. You don’t have to say it.You’ve already whispered it to each other.Typed it in
You were never a man.You were a shadow that breathed. You didn’t shout. You didn’t need to.Your silence had weight.
I didn’t have a father.Not really.I had temp roles.Figures.Shadows with voices that sometimes sounded like love and other times sounded
You’ve read about me.You’ve scrolled past me.Maybe you laughed, maybe you judged.Maybe you shared the meme, clicked the article, joined
There are parts of this I won’t defend.And parts I can’t explain.But there is no version of this letter where