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But while my world might not end if I stay here, it’s never going to begin either.
but Florida? Hard pass.
no one can wreck my life as well as I can wreck my life,
“Why is saying it this hard?” This isn’t new information. I’ve always known. I’ve said this sentence in my head daily for as long as I can remember. “You have to let go of everything negative you associate with being gay. All that makes us resent this part of ourselves. And then come to terms with who you are. Reject all the hate you were raised to believe.
And people can mind their business. If I wanna comfort my bro by rubbing my shirtless body against his, I’m gonna do it.”
“Straight boys are so fucking weird,”
And I thought I could hold it in, but shit, it’s all kind of soul crushing, you know?
“Everyone deserves happiness.”
I’d say anything by Adam Silvera. But only if you’re in the mood to have all your emotions knocked out of you like a piñata.”
She used to say that there was no sadness a good salsa verde couldn’t cure. That if you want to stop crying over unhappy things, cry over the sting of blended peppers kicking your throat’s ass instead.
And I think about how Dad gave me everything I could need. Except for the one thing that shouldn’t have terms or conditions. That should be a given. That should be so easy. Acceptance.
And that all we want is for you to know love in this life. The gravest sin of all would be to keep you from experiencing the fullness of this life.
We’re gonna be that educated brown gay couple Boomers have nightmares about.”
Not that I don’t love my group, but spending a day with pretty much all queer teenagers is a little bit revolutionary.
And—shit. I’m a big fucking gay mess.
I can love, in spite of the hate that has defined my past.
I know that I am worthy. That I am enough. And that’s enough for right now.

