you know how much I hate cowardice. So why didn’t you ever talk to me again, just when things were going well? I thought that maybe our friendship was healing, that maybe one day I could tell my best friend about what’s been bottled inside. That I could tell him why I took offence to immaturity. His immaturity. But no, I never did. We never got to talk normally again. So no, I guess I’ll never tell him that I was closeted, and also liked girls. Stupid Ronan Bleachers, what a coward you were.