I have no idea what I'm going to do with my feelings, so I'll write them down here. This is the story of my closest friend, Connor.
I met Connor near the beginning of this school year, about two weeks in. We were in Social Studies class together, and I never really talked to him, until one day.
I was reading The Amazing Book Is Not On Fire in class because I was bored, and we just started talking. I told him I was trans, because at that point I had come out to the whole school, and he told me that he was trans as well.
This meant I had two transgender friends who would understand what I was going through, and he and I hit it off. We talked a lot, almost getting in trouble for talking in class many more times than we should have.
The problem was, Connor was afraid. About a month ago, he had come out to his mother as bisexual, and she had nearly kicked him out. He was afraid that if he came out as trans, he would be kicked out.
Then, everything changed.
At about 3:45, on November 4th, his car, which he was traveling in with his older sister, two younger siblings, and mom, was rear-ender by a 16-year-old in a pickup truck.
He and his older sister were pronounced dead at the scene, while his mother and two younger siblings were rushed to the hospital is critical condition. I found out the next day, and it really fucked me up.
Connor has been my confidant. If I was feeling down, I could go talk to him, and even though he was dealing with depression and anxiety as well, he'd put it all aside to help me. He was an amazing person.
And what hurts me most is that he'll be buried under a name that isn't his.
...
That's your explanation of how I'm feeling right now.
Prepare for me to pour my feelings out in to angst.
