A little less than three weeks ago, I had a rough day. Memories of J kept pulling me under, even though I knew he never spent a single second thinking about me. After hours of staring at walls and pretending to have my life together, I walked to a dorm in the middle of campus, where for some reason, I started reading my old blog posts. Then, I found this:
The cheesy and heartfelt words of seventeen-year-old me, from my blog post “Things Change.” Dang, time flies.
After reading those words, I ran to a bathroom stall, played the Teen Titans scene from my blog post on repeat, and sobbed for twenty minutes. I felt every tear like a shock of electricity running down my face; as I crouched down on the cold hard tile, my cheek pressing into the cool granite, every nerve in my body sung, as if all my emotions just then ripped through my body. Because reading my old blog post and watching that scene made me remember an important lesson, one that gave me hope: things change.
I loved the old J, the one who cared about me, the one with an honest calm, the friend who worked hard to improve himself. Continue reading
I have posted about the fallacy of the gay best friend before, but since then I discovered this article from the Huffington Post, so I want to remind everyone: gay men do not make good friends.
Let me backtrack. Gay men may make good friends. But this article – which I read as a parody at first because of its awfulness – assumes that all gay men share ten key characteristics. Continue reading
As a rising college sophomore, I have witnessed my fair share of sexual relationships
that for once were not fictional. Contrary to popular belief, I do not think anyone can isolate sex as a physical activity free of emotional implication. I am not saying that sex is bad, that empowerment through sex is phony, or that people who have a lot of sex should be condemned. Rather, I argue that sex is a complex subject that people should think about, because it has so many intricacies and ramifications for those involved.
Even Katy Perry’s seemingly innocent “Birthday” is filled with sexual innuendos. Speaking of birthdays, mine is this Sunday… so you should read and comment on this post as a gift. Just kidding. Sort of.
Sex is almost never just sex. Continue reading
“You’re a liar,” she says.
“Nope,” I say. “I’m an introvert. Just like Jane Eyre.”
“You talk so much though,” she says, eyes wide with shock. “You get along with everyone. You have so many friends!”
Now you’re the liar, I think, I don’t have friends. What are those? Also, you ignored my allusion to the best book ever. Our friendship is over. I cough a little bit into my hand to cover my disdain, and I lean back into the hard wood of my dorm room door.
“Have you met my roommate?” I ask. “Now, he’s an extrovert…” Continue reading
With my move-in date for college in less than a week, I doubt I’d get to meet many older men – but if I could, would I? Several times when age-gap relationships come up, people automatically react with comments like “oh, that’s so gross” or “what a pedophile.” I don’t support relationships in which one person takes advantage of another, but in terms of mutually consensual relationships in which the partners have a considerable age difference, whose place is it to discriminate? Continue reading
My handy dandy suitcase.
Floss, Latin textbook, ratty T-shirt, notebook. As I threw these things into my suitcase, I wondered whether I would survive that day.
I ran out of my house. Wearing shorts and a thin jacket, the cold cut at me even though the sun still shone. Shouldering my backpack and holding my suitcase in both arms, I felt like a fictional character, running away from home. Except this time everything was real.
I made it a few blocks down until I saw her car approach me. Contemplating whether or not to make a run for it, I knew I wouldn’t escape – no mile time was fast enough to outpace an angry mother. Her beige car pulled up alongside the road, and she lowered her window to yell at me.
“Get back in the house, now!” my mother screamed.
Minutes before, she had threatened to kill me. Inside my house, she had started one of her angry outbursts, but it felt more dangerous than all of the other ones. In that moment, standing on the sidewalk of the road, heart racing, I defied my mother for the first time. Continue reading
Cover via Goodreads.
Rating: 5/5 stars.
3 STEPS TO BECOME ME, THOMAS:
1. Obtain a copy of Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe.
2. Read the book.
3. Fall in love. Fall in love with the writing, the characters, everything. Read past midnight, read in school, read everywhere and all the time. Slam the book shut and whisper-scream oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh. At the end of the book, allow a single tear to run down your right cheek and say a silent prayer of thanks for the fact that you are able to read at all.
Perhaps I’m making this book seem more dramatic than it actually is. Continue reading