A few afternoons ago I was about to check my email when I saw this page. The first thing I noticed was the mention of male pixies, which always interest me. Then, I saw it.
My eyes! They burn!
As someone who regularly wears mismatched sweatshirts, skinny jeans, sweatpants, and sandals, I really don’t know much about fashion. But this, this was definitely wrong. When I laid my eyes on it, I couldn’t explain why – I couldn’t even really formulate a logical thought – but I knew it deep down. Deep down, in my intolerant, unaccepting, horribly superior mind, I knew that this was absolutely sickening. Continue reading
I hold the phone with my right hand, and grasp the cool, smooth surface of the bathroom sink with my left.
“They said what?” I whisper.
“She said you’re the gayest guy in our grade,” my friend says, “he just agreed – he didn’t say anything.”
“What?” I say, even though I heard her clearly. I just don’t want to believe it.
“It was on the back of the bus,” she says, “I sat there and listened to them.”
“Oh,” I say. As a fourteen-year-old, I don’t want my friend to think I care about what my classmates think about me. But curiosity quickly kills my desire to play it cool. Continue reading