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how beautifully fragile we are that we accept pain when we think we deserve it and let it break us silently.
He’s broken, hurting. This, all of this, is not what I expected, it’s not the idea of him I had in my head. It makes him more real to me. And honestly, it makes him beautiful. He’s trying so hard to be himself. All he wants is for the people he loves to love him back as he is. I get that.
If I were to glow with how much I want him right now, I’d be brighter than the sun.
God? If it’s so wrong, why couldn’t I have been given the choice, because I tell you right now, it wasn’t. I don’t want this. I never did. And honestly, every person in this building who thinks I woke up one day and chose this, that I chose to be ridiculed by them, to be looked down on by them, hated by them, is a fucking moron.

