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Nothing is worse than the secret humiliation of being insulted by proxy.
She’s the worst kind of perfect. Like, if perfection had a dark side. I don’t know how else to explain it. I always imagine her sitting in front of a mirror at night, counting strokes as she brushes her hair. And she’s the kind of person who posts on Facebook asking you how you did on the history quiz. Not to be supportive. She wants to know your grade.
I completely understand what you mean about feeling locked into yourself. For me, I don’t even think it has anything to do with other people thinking they know me. It’s more that I want to leap in and say certain things and do certain things, but I always seem to hold myself back. I think a big part of me is afraid. Even thinking about it makes me nauseated. Did I mention I get nauseated easily?
“Et tu, Brute?”
I picture it. He kisses me, and it’s nothing like Rachel or Anna or Carys. I can’t even. It’s not even in the same stratosphere. There’s this electric tingly feeling radiating through my whole body and my brain has gone fuzzy and I actually think I can hear my heartbeat.
A part of me feels like I jumped over some kind of border, and now I’m on the other side realizing I can’t cross back.
This is really momentous, isn’t it? I’m guessing this is the kind of thing we remember for the rest of our lives.
I know exactly what you mean about crossing the border. I think this is the kind of process that moves in one direction. Once you come out, you can’t really go back in. It’s a little bit terrifying, isn’t it? I know we’re so lucky we’re coming out now and not twenty years ago, but it’s still really a leap of faith. It’s easier than I thought it would be, but at the same time, it’s so much harder.
It’s not easier. It’s impossible. Because even though it feels like I’ve known Abby forever, I really only met her four months ago. And I guess there hasn’t been time for her to have any set ideas about me yet. But I’ve known Leah since sixth grade, and Nick since we were four. And this gay thing. It feels so big. It’s almost insurmountable. I don’t know how to tell them something like this and still come out of it feeling like Simon. Because if Leah and Nick don’t recognize me, I don’t even recognize myself anymore.
“And you know what? You don’t get to say it’s not a big thing. This is a big fucking thing, okay? This was supposed to be—this is mine. I’m supposed to decide when and where and who knows and how I want to say it.” Suddenly, my throat gets thick. “So, yeah, you took that from me.
people really are like houses with vast rooms and tiny windows. And maybe it’s a good thing, the way we never stop surprising each other.
