The friend I came out to Friday has been treating me the same, like the whole coming out thing was no big deal. So that's nice to know, that things won't change between us.
I'm starting to develop a cold. I never get sick. Like, ever. So this is really bothering me. Right now I'm about to overdose on Zicam.
Brittany was supposed to bring me her poems today, but she's sick. Now I have to wait yet another day. I gave her a poem about my dad yesterday and I really hope I haven't overstepped some boundary, hope my disclosure of a personal situation didn't chase her away. I doubt it did.
I wrote an essay about homophobia for AP English. My teacher absolutely loves it. I'm fairly certain that the essay points to my being gay, and a teacher trained in the art of reading between the lines will certainly pick up on that. I really don't care though. Maybe she'll have even more respect for me than she already does.
I had the best dream ever last night. My entire journalism class was sitting in a group beneath a large tree in my grandparents' back yard. Brittany and I were sitting next to each other, and nobody was paying any attention to us. She suddenly put her hand on my thigh, extremely close to a certain happy place, and start massaging it, squeezing it. If it can't happen in reality, at least sleep will let me experience it in dreams.