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“Boys like us always know one another about a thousand years before anyone else knows us, don’t we?”
His smile was a needle of sun piercing a gray scrim of clouds. And perhaps it was this, how he could be touched by so small a compliment, that made me understand all he’d stored up in his heart.
This boy whose shoulders I held in my hands, I wanted him to have the shimmer of the whole world.
I learned it was to my benefit to look a certain way. People treat a girl very differently depending on how she looks. Doors open that you didn’t even know could be doors because they always looked like walls.”
“Boys like us get used to having to lie about everything else just so we can tell the truth about ourselves.”
Gatsby and I may have been nothing to men like Tom Buchanan, but men like that did not know we were as divine as the heavens. We were boys who had created ourselves. We had formed our own bodies, our own lives, from the ribs of the girls we were once assumed to be.
“Fairy,” he said. “It’s a word I forgot to tell you about. It’s a word they use for boys like us. They mean it to be an insult, but I take it to mean there’s something magic about us and they know it.”
The world may look at you and see a pawn, but that just means they’ll never see your move coming.

