He told me he was bi, but couldn't tell his parents. So we became a support system for each other to talk about LGBT issues, and it turned out that we had a similar interest in political issues. When he got home from school, he would come online and chat with me and play games.
Years later, he contacted me and told me he was sorry and felt really guilty for what happened. I understood, of course. It wasn't his responsibility to provide an outlet for me to communicate with the world beyond my house. He was just a kid too, and I was putting a lot on him.
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I know this sort of stuff isn't why you read my feed, but I just wanted to share. He meant a lot to me. He still does, actually, for giving me a daily escape for the half year or so that he did. It meant a lot, in ways I doubt anyone but myself can really appreciate.
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Enough with story time. Writing these letters has been really cathartic, and I've only done three. I will probably do four or five more, at least. I always thought writing letters you don't send sounded like a dumb exercise, but I recommend trying it. It's cathartic.
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