My loneliness. Sometimes I was sure I had a sickness. It had been there for as long as I could remember, a heaviness that pressed down on my chest at night, and sometimes during the day, too. It was a feeling that separated me from other people, even though the core of the feeling was wanting, in a terrible way, to feel close to someone. When I was young I’d always known that the antidote to my loneliness would be to fall in love someday. I looked forward to love more than anything else about growing up. More than leaving home or learning to drive or doing drugs—things that other kids were
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