“For me, Halloween’s all about the Oreos with the orange frosting in the middle.”
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“For me, Halloween’s all about the Oreos with the orange frosting in the middle.”
When I go to college in Los Angeles, I’ll be gay and proud, I promise… Yeah, maybe not that gay.
When you were little, you were so carefree. But these last few years, more and more, it’s almost like I can feel you holding your breath. I wanted to ask you about it, but I didn’t wan to pry. Maybe I made a mistake. No. No, mom, you didn’t make a mistake. Being gay is your thing. There are parts of it you have to go through alone. I hate that. As soon as you came out, you said, “Mom, I’m still me.” I need you to hear this: You are still you, Simon. You are still the same son who I love to tease and who your father depends on for just about everything. And you’re the same brother who always complements his sister on her food, even when it sucks. You get to exhale now, Simon. You get to be more you than you have been in… in a very long time. You deserve everything you want.
movies watched in 2018: love simon
isn’t it isn’t it?
simon and bram bonding over oreos
‘Oh, Simon. Hey, can we talk?’ ‘I don’t have anything to say to you.’
I’m just like you. For the most part, my life is totally normal. My dad was the annoyingly handsome quarterback who married the hot valedictorian. And, no, they didn’t peak in high school. I have a sister I actually like. Not that I’d ever tell her that… And then there’s my friends. Two of them, I’ve known since pretty much the beginning of time. Or at least kindergarten. One of them I just met a few months ago, but it feels like I’ve known her forever. We do everything friends do. We drink way too much iced coffee, watch a bad ‘90s movies and hang out at Waffle House dreaming of college and gorging on carbs. So, like I said. I’m just like you. I have a totally, perfect normal life. Except I have one huge-ass secret… I’m gay. — Love, Simon
‘No, thanks. I’m driving. And Simon doesn’t really drink.’ ‘No, I drink. It’s cool. I drink.’ ‘Really? You wouldn’t even have a glass of Manischewitz at Leah’s Seder.’