Take Me with You When You Go

by David Levithan

it’s that lies will come back to haunt you, and that people are more forgiving up front than if they find out later you’ve been lying all along.

You can say things over and over to yourself, but the moment you say them out loud to someone else, they become something different, like you’re taking a fear and giving it a solid shape so it can actually hurt you. And when someone else says the things you’re saying in your head—that has the same effect. It should feel better to be sharing it, but it also makes it less deniable.

“No, you’re not,” Terrence replied. And that was it. That was what I needed, to feel that there was someone else who remained.

I try not to listen to it, but when someone tells you those things enough, you can’t help it. Because if they speak loud enough and often enough, that’s the only voice you’re able to hear.

Pity is worse than pain, embarrassment is worse than help. If people treat you like shit, you still have to stay loyal to them. You still have to give them the benefit of the doubt that maybe you are, in fact, shit and deserve to be treated the way they treat you.