I sat in my car in the parking lot of De Anza Six on a crisp Autumn morning in 2005. It was the Monday after Halloween, but I was still in costume. It was the best I could manage, having only worked up the nerve to buy a dress a few days earlier.

I gripped the steering wheel with my left hand as if I was hanging on for life. Because in a way, I was. My right hand rested on the gear stick, ready to put it in reverse and go home. Inside the building, my coworkers were finishing their coffee and getting ready for the morning meeting, which I was probably going to be late for.

I could still go home and get changed. I’d be living a lie, but I’d be respectable. I’d be dead inside, but I’d still be a promising young man on the outside. The value of a decision is what it costs you to make it, that’s why the important ones are never easy.

I might be late for work, but it’s not too late for me, yet

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