Here the Whole Time

by Vitor Martins

Being thin is not a prize you win in the lottery of life that guarantees eternal happiness.

‘No one can protect us but ourselves,’ she says, as if reading my thoughts. ‘But, look, Felipe, I swear to you that one day things will get better. One day you’ll learn to like who you are a little better, and that’ll be reflected in what other people see when they look at you. There will always be assholes, but we learn to fight back. That’s the most important thing – to not put your head down, to fight for the right to marry who you love, for the right to have your body respected regardless of what it looks like or what you’re wearing. To fight for the right to walk down the street without being attacked for the color of your skin.’

‘Sometimes I look at the phone screen of the person sitting next to me on the bus and judge them if the wallpaper is a photo of themself.’

I wish I knew how old is too old to lie down in your mom’s bed and talk. I hope there’s no such thing, because I want to be able to do this always.

‘Are you afraid your mom is going to walk in on us?’ ‘No, my mom isn’t the problem,’ I say. ‘She’d probably throw a pack of condoms our way and bring some juice after we were … done.’

‘It’s hard to believe you can really be happy with someone when you spend your entire life hearing that being gay is wrong and your fate is to burn in hell,’ Caio admits, his breathing irregular. The sadness in his voice hits me hard. ‘People are wrong. You can be happy,’ I say.

But in all that time I spent by myself, I never really thought about the things that make me happy. I guess I’ve always been so busy trying to avoid being unhappy that I never found a way to be happy.

I’ve always treated my body like a grenade that’s about to explode, as if no one ever wanted to come close to me, and even if they did, it would be best not to touch me. But my body is not a bomb.