Do you know how you get the urge to clean your room, and it’s no big deal? But when your mom tells you that you have to clean your room, you don't want to? That's me, anyway.

And perhaps the best answer is not to tolerate differences, not even to accept them. But to celebrate them. Maybe then those who are different would feel more loved, and less, well, tolerated.

You can be anything you want, but when you go against who you are inside, it doesn't feel good.

It needs to be said that sometimes my mom forgets important details when she talks. Like the time she told us she was considering leather (couches, it turns out), or when I was little and she said, "Here's a napkin to put your balls in" (the Atomic Fireballs that I was eating, she meant).

Guilt is about something you do. Shame is about who you are.

I don't think about relatability (when writing), I think about the heart of the character.

Wouldn't it be nice if we lived in a world where no one thought being gay was even something to ride someone about?