Troy didn’t know Clement was already in the bed when he jumped up. Now both of them are annoyed — with me. (Like it’s my fault.)

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When making friends means being exploited

I remember one scene particularly well: It was in Ms. Brown’s biology class, and it must have been Year 9, because I didn’t have a class with her before then, but Simon wasn’t in my class afterwards.

This is part three of my ongoing project to write out my personal history in an effort to untangle the emotional history and stressors of my life.

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Three, two, one: What do I do when I fall in love with another boy?

I was 13 when I first thought about killing myself.

I know it was that age only because I remember a specific detail that couldn’t have occurred when I got any older. After my sister, Lisa, moved to college when I was 14, I left the bedroom at the back of our third-floor 3-bedroom apartment, overlooking the fence, and into the larger bedroom that used to be hers.

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The things we’re not taught

            <blockquote>In a society that profits from your self doubt, liking yourself is a rebellious act.

— Someone, somewhere, but the Internet has mangled it enough that I don’t know who or where to source it

I get contemplative every time I see people around me go through major life events: picking college, graduating, quitting their jobs or getting engaged.

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