I hated walking down the corridors of my high school. Hated roll call when the teacher called me by my birth name, hearing the other and "normal" kids mummble hurtful names and words no one should have to be called/ hear. The only thing that keeps me going is my best friend Jesse. We have been friends since third grade. He was there for me when I first came out, when I was depressed, when I needed help with anything really. Then there was Kevin. I know hate is a strong word but I hate that kid with a passion. He'd trip me in the hall, making my books fall with me. Tripping me at lunch causing me to drop my food.
