This bit here, is what got me started. (Although, feel free to read everything else, I certainly have.) Reading it again, I noticed something. It's when he says,
Don’t you realize that at best, you’re saying I’m deluded, and really, what you’re actually doing is calling me a liar?
Over the years, I’ve realized that I do have my lines from which I will brook no crossings, no jokes, no pushing, no arguments. If you want to be in my life, there are a few rules. One of them is that you do not call me a liar about my own truth. I will cut you out of my life for that and not regret doing so, and you will not be allowed back in. If you needed it, consider this your warning.
Because this, this, is what is behind the ranting and raving and endless talk I've been doing about heritage and culture and who and what I am. I was told that I was wrong about my own truth. And I exploded. And I am, slowly, digging the shrapnel out from the floors.
This is my truth. Don't you dare call me a liar.