You have 20 minutes to get away before they catch you. The rules say no running.
You know what, sure, my depression is being worsened by you telling me to drop out of the one school in the one town I’ve finally found a home and a family in. It’s you telling me that I don’t have a future for myself because my boyfriend’s life is expensive, because of your ungodly transphobia and unwillingness to learn anything. It’s you telling me you think me going home to where I’ve proven I’m happy is going to cause me to kill myself and you want to keep an eye on me, because I’m obviously /so much happier/ in this fucking town. It’s you telling me that I’m gorgeous, and there’s no reason for me to dress like a boy or try and pretend to be one, because Heaven forbid your child turn out to be trans. Heaven forbid your only daughter might not be your daughter after all, but aren’t I still your child? It’s you telling me that I’ve been straight for the past 5 years instead of queer like I’ve been identifying because I’ve been in three long term relationships with men.
Over the past five years, I have identified as every label from the acronym LGBTQ. When I was 13, I was convinced I was bisexual. During that year, I conflicted between identifying as a lesbian and bisexual, eventually settling on bisexual after a few months of internal debate.