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I was thinking about all the ways I'd already screwed my life up.
我在考虑以前把我的生活毁了的各种方式。
Who the hell was I to go to New York City and pretend to be a writer?
那个要去纽约装作是一位作家的我到底是谁？
Who was I?
我是谁？
I'll tell you.
我来告诉各位。
I was a misfit.
我是一位不适者。
Like legions of other children,
就像千千万万其他的孩子，
I came from an abusive household that I narrowly escaped with my life.
我来自一个受虐待的家庭，只不过我侥幸逃脱了。
I already had two epically failed marriages underneath my belt.
在我的生命中已经经历了两次婚姻的大失败。
I'd flunked out of college not once but twice
我考大学失败了两次，
and maybe even a third time that I'm not going to tell you about.
也许会有第三次，我不会告诉你们的。
And I'd done an episode of rehab for drug use.
我还有一段戒毒的美妙经历。
And I'd had two lovely staycations in jail.
我还在监狱里度过两次假。
So I'm on the right stage.
所以我应该站在这里。
But the real reason, I think, I was a misfit,
但是我想，真正的原因是我是一个不适者。
is that my daughter died the day she was born,
我的女儿在出生的那天就去世了，
and I hadn't figured out how to live with that story yet.
我当时根本无法接受这件事。
After my daughter died I also spent a long time homeless,
女儿去世后我无家可归了一段时间，
living under an overpass in a kind of profound state of zombie grief and loss
住在一个天桥下。那种无尽的悲痛和困惑
that some of us encounter along the way.
是很多人一生中都会遇到的。
Maybe all of us, if you live long enough.
如果活得够久，也许所有人都会遇到。
You know, homeless people are some of our most heroic misfits,
无家可归的人是我们中最可怕的不适者，
because they start out as us.
因为从那时起他们就成为了我这样的人。
