Oct. 2nd, 2010

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Somehow I am not surprised to learn that quuf's experiences were so similar to my own. The difference is that I was seven when I took the pearl-handled folding knife from the fireplace mantle and ran into the orchard with it.

My plan was also to stab myself in the belly— fitting, because I not only hated myself for being gay, but for being a fat little boy too. I knelt in the waist-high, yellow grass and stared at the knife in my open hands for what seemed like hours, but ultimately I did not act. Instead I went home, got caught before I could return the knife, and told my mother the truth about what I had done, because I was too young to know any better. I got in heaps of trouble for it.


I've been watching It Gets Better Project videos here and there. I think they're a great idea. It seems that what all of these people in the videos really want to do is hop into time machines and go reassure their younger selves that it's going to be all right. Since they can't do that, they're doing the next best thing. The help they needed back then can at least be given to those who need it now.

I want to take a photograph of John and bring it to my younger self. I want to say: Look at what you get. Seriously, look. Look at who will love you. I know life is tough now. I know it sucks. I remember. But what you must know is that the Neanderthal shit you're putting up with will come to an end, and then your life becomes your own, and then you find your people, and then you get John. Just stick with it. Don't be scared, little bobcat. There's so much beauty in the world, and you get to be a part of it.

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