Then tears start to streak down my cheeks, and it hits me, the real gut-punch: I could have come here. I went through all that shit when I could have simply moved in with Dad. I didn't know. I think about this comfy bed below me. I think about where I was. It seems wrong—so fucking wrong—that my dad doesn't even care I’m gay. My whole life could have been different.
This shit is so sad
