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I’d never been part of a group like that, so it was interesting, like a National Geographic special on wolves that I might watch with my dad. And I was part of the pack.
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I’m just me, and me is confusing.
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I'm so tired of being a type... it's not just a black and white thing. Jock. Geek. Stoner. No one is considered just a human being, it seems like.
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I wanted to watch his mouth as I made him laugh. I wanted to see his face light up with the spark of whatever silly joke there was, and I wanted to kiss him too, and really more than that, which was not a straight thing, I know, but it was also true.
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The idea that because things are worse somewhere else, you’re not allowed to have issues in your life. That’s what people who are trying to avoid having normal feelings say.
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I don't think about relatability (when writing), I think about the heart of the character.
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That never even occurred to me, that he had feelings.
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And I think, What’s the opposite of suffocation?
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That was a level of commitment I’d never be able to understand, and I wished there was something out there I felt so strongly about I’d willingly die for it.
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Anyway, my whole thing is, whatever path I'm on, I'm on. I'm not going to avoid it because it's harder for the world, or even harder for me. I'm like, I gotta be me, you know?
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Wouldn't it be nice if we lived in a world where no one thought being gay was even something to ride someone about?
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The world will make you vulnerable. If you’re acting like you’re not, that’s what you’re doing. Acting.
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Mom always says all sorts of shit goes down in the world, and it’s up to me to decide how to take it. The one way you’re sure to be unhappy is to frown your way through life, she says, and she’s right. Always look for the bright, vibrant color through the darkness. It’s always there, but sometimes hard to see.
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We’d sleep in the same bed for a year, and finally we’d do it, but we’d never talk about it, ever, and then Ben would get married and I’d be killed in Texas.
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And I felt so foreign, lying there, the wind howling outside our window. What was I doing here? Who was Rafe, really? Can you just put a part of yourself on hold? And if you do, does it cease to be true? Straight people have it so much easier. They don’t understand. They can’t. There’s no such thing as openly straight.
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He said he was scared they’d lock him up. That’s his biggest fear.
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Everybody wanted something from me, and some days it felt like I was being pulled in thirty different directions, and I wondered how anyone figured out how to be all things to all people without going insane.
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Man, I could get used to this thing where I don’t think I’m a total piece of shit all the time.
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The hole in my heart, I can’t even begin to describe. It’s hard when you open your heart and let someone in and then suddenly they’re not in it anymore. It doesn’t matter whose fault it is; that empty spot stings so bad that you want to find any kind of relief, or wrap yourself up so tight you can’t feel it anymore. I knew it might be there a little while. Or maybe even a long while. For both of us.
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Lean forward, and head on down the mountain.
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As I opened the car door and stepped back into the chilly night, I was thinking that maybe the key to life is to have goldfish memories. So you can’t remember the time a friend hurt you. So you can give second and third and even fourth chances. To yourself too. Because sometimes it takes multiple.
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Actually, tolerance and acceptance are different. To tolerate seems to mean that there is something negative to tolerate, doesn't it?
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It's funny because it's true, and also it's the kind of humor that makes you think.
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Acceptance is an affirmation that you’re good enough.