I don't know how, but she did.

Can't she tell I tried? I really did, no matter what she screams, and no matter how many things she flings at me, or how hard she throws her punches.

My parents say I'm going to hell for what I am, that I'm unnatural and wrong. But how can something so beautiful and pure, be so wrong?

I have to go away tomorrow, they're sending me to some camp to 'fix' me. To make me better or something. Maybe this is for the best...

Day one: It's nice here, I guess. My bunkmate...

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As Darvo walked into the glaring sunset on the western horizon ahead of him, he wondered to himself about the Yoga studio he passed by minutes ago. There were so many beautiful women in there doing flexible things that he knew that his own body was not capable of.

Darvo had actually passed by that same Yoga studio almost every day for the past six months when he took up a job as a salesman at the screen door factory next door.

Everytime he walked by, on his way home, he made a point to look inside the window of...

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2070. Je regarde par la fenêtre. Les douze coups viennent de sonner à l'horloge. Sur la place, dehors, des petits chalets de toile sont montés, et regorgent de victuailles et de boissons pour les fêtards. La foule se presse, danse au son des violons, et s'embrasse et s'embrasse pour se souhaiter la bonne année.
Je tends la main vers la petite table, j'attrape mon bol de tisane et le porte à mes lèvres. Ma main tremble, ses veines sont saillantes et sa peau fripée. Les tâches qui la parsèment sont le décompte des années.
2070, le monde n'a pas changé....

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