When I first realised I was gay it was pretty horrific. There was the usual name-calling at school. How did they know when I hardly did? I realised later that of course they didn’t; insults just happen to fit and I didn’t really have any friends. When I was twelve I swallowed a pack of paracetamol. It didn’t work; I just slept all day and damaged a kidney. That’d haunt me later. I soon stopped eating for days, punishing myself. My mother would yell at me when lunchboxes, lovingly prepared, came home untouched. So I started secretly throwing food away.
