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.

▸ Read more. “When making friends means being exploited”

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.

▸ Read more. “Three, two, one: What do I do when I fall in love with another boy?”

how many

how many more kids have to die before we begin to say that taking away guns might mean we kill fewer children

how many more schools need to have bullet holes before we decide we don’t want another shooting at a school ever again

how many of our children have to watch their friends and siblings be killed at the place they learn to grow up before we look at other countries and realise their dying isn’t a fact of life

how many more kids have to grow up before their time

how many more lives have to be broken

how many