That’s what that boy brought me: for the first time ever, I was living in color. Those deep, previously unexplored feelings and instincts I’d spent my life hiding and burying and denying – he pulled them all to the surface in one dizzying, intoxicating whoosh of Technicolor madness. Sometimes I found myself enjoying the pain, too – he opened up a sublime rage in me that I didn’t even know existed. Hurting him felt like heaven, and I hated myself for how much I wanted to hate him sometimes. He was like a book, one of the really good ones where you had to slip away and press your face close to
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