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227 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 2, 2018


Inside of me there was a still, dark pool, which reflected no one’s face but his.



I no longer knew how to behave normally; I couldn’t remember what normal looked like. I couldn’t wait to be alone with him. Nothing else mattered.
I knew God wasn’t cruel, but what could possibly motivate me to battle against desires that felt so natural?

Why couldn’t he understand that? To keep lying for both of us, acting normal for both of us, wasn’t easy.
Wanting him and being unable to do anything about it was like burning alive, but inside, where nobody could see. And I was supposed to smile and act normal, to go day after day in that state, for the rest of my life.
“Jamie,” I breathed. It was always this. It was this, forever. I pushed him against the wall and pressed close to him. There had never been another choice. Living had paused when he exited my life. The times without him were a story not even worth writing. Now the reel started once more.
Intimacy is easier, simpler than morality. It is a land without borders; morality is a civil war.
It is in the blue mist of youth that the legends of our whole life are born. Whatever we come to love in those years—whatever we read or hear, whomever we admire or idolize—haunts us to death. For me, it was that boy.

“He came to me when I was a child. We were both children and therein lay the danger. It is in the blue mist of youth that the legends of our whole life are born. Whatever we come to love in those years—whatever we read or hear, whomever we admire or idolize—haunts us to death. For me, it was that boy. He was my soul’s totem, a guide outside of morality. I followed him until the end.”

“He was shy. I was outgoing. He disliked—even seemed to resent—sharing his ideas with others. I was charismatic. He enjoyed painting, cooking, and playing computer games. I preferred being outdoors and fitness.”




He came to me when I was a child. We were both children and therein lay the danger. It is in the blue mist of youth that the legends of our whole life are born. Whatever we come to love in those years—whatever we read or hear, whomever we admire or idolize—haunts us to death. For me, it was that boy. He was my soul’s totem, a guide outside of morality. I followed him until the end.

“Wanting him and being unable to do anything about it was like burning alive, but inside, where nobody could see. And I was supposed to smile and act normal, to go day after day in that state, for the rest of my life.”
“Loving him, protecting him, had been my life’s purpose. I should never have put anything before him.”

“He was made for me. He begged the whole time, even when I sped up, even when I pushed him flat on the mattress and began pounding against him. We shook the bed. The grip of his body was intoxicating.”



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