It always, without fail, throws me back to that warm spring day outside Shiloh Elementary School, squirming under skin too tight and gasping for air through my teeth as the first boy I ever really liked—my best friend—told me he couldn’t be friends with a faggot. As that same boy shoved me down and spit in my face only days later. Breaking my heart and spirit all in a matter of seconds. Seconds. Like it was nothing. Like I was nothing.
