Poetry by Michael Paramo.
All in Vol 1 Iss 2
I learned about the aromantic and asexual spectrums and things started to make sense.
The ice has started to melt. I am not broken, my eyes might be, not the rest of me.
But nobody chooses who they are. Nobody creates their character at the start of the game…
For the first time ever, not only had I been able to accept who I really was, but so did my closest friend. And it was a wonderful feeling.