My name is Robert Lonergan. Well, my father's name S Robert Lonergan with a \"James\" sandwiched somewhere in the middle. I, however, am Aden, coming from a city my father grew up in; It's a small port town in Yemen where the air is fresh and cool, the smell of the sea carried through by airstreams in and around the sprawling bazaars and shops. I have never visited that fateful town, but still, I feel a strong connection... one wherein I feel the breeze, the sand, and the salt of the ocean if I only try hard enough. Perhaps we are linked so strongly by name. in this world, there are about as many new iPhones as thee are ways to spell, \"Aiden, Adan, Aidan, and Adyn,\" none of which are mine. My life began like that, early memories involving mispronounced names at kindergarten graduation, Lonergan being apparently a more difficult name then I had ever known it simply to speak. Regardless, I did go on and did accept the kindergarten diploma now boxed up, drawing the army of dust bunnies away from our stronghold downstairs, beckoning them to the garage. How trivial all of these awards and shows were would dawn on me later, but that is beside the point.\n\nIn grade 4 I began to notice changes. The teacher said that guys and girls become good friends and then do a thing called, \"marriage.\" Now I wasn't sure what that was but it sure sounded like fun! At least, it did for a bit. I asked everyone I knew what marriage was, especially my most trusted adult in coach Samuel whose name I have changed for reasons that will become obvious later. We talked and talked, sometimes a bit too long, but eventually, I would tell him something that would change my life, a realization I still have yet to fully realize. Now I didn't know, at the time, that a man in his mid-forties discussing girls with a ten-year-old boy was inappropriate, so I went on and on about the cute girls in class until I rattled off a name that shook him. \"Cody.\" It wasn't a girl, but a boy. I let him know and he paused solemnly for a minute before leaving me to the kickball I always chose. We didn't talk much after that. He rounded up the kids after we had gotten changed out of our gym clothes and announced to us some information that shook me, to say the least. \"Now, listen up y'all. You know somebody who is a girl liking girls or a boy liking boys, you call 'em a faggot.\" He made us repeat that awful word. Word spread throughout the school under the guise of innocent student talk, when in reality much darker and deep-seated hate was bubbling to the surface. This repression and shame of my bisexuality would hurt me for years to come and led to my middle school years being the worst of my life.\n\nFrom bullies to jocks, my middle school experience was so typical that I would get a lifetime ban from the Sundance film festival for the cliche writing of my life's plot. The homophobia continuously pushed my mental state further into the dirt. The combination of school and depression mixed with emotional disturbance also led me to gain OCD like some kind of sick 2-for-1 promotion of mental disorders. By the time I was 16, I had convinced my parents to let me go to therapy after telling them of my troubles, though depression had delayed that discussion about four years. Medication, though, was not enough in a town like Waxahachie where the average person had an inclination against all things rainbow. This is where I turned to Ryan. Ryan was where my friend Alex got his drugs from and I asked him for something simple - a bag of edibles, gummy bears to be exact. What I didn't know was that the first two gummies I took made me paranoid... so paranoid that I took the rest of the bag, idiotically. The edibles are ten milligrams per. The average does for a started is five. I took three hundred. I was strung out on my bed for three days, still feeling residual pulls as I took a test for AP Biology. I felt 2D, my mind racing and painting pictures from other dimensions, and I specifically recall the ability to see in the first dimension and cars racing around me, everything feeling so connected. I called 911 after feeling pain and that godsend operator thankfully didn't notify police of my little stasis. They left and my incredible parents helped me in feeling up to snuff. We talked for a while about everything and eventually, things were back to usual.\n\nIt was then, cotton-mouthed in my bed and hot as a rock in the desert that I realized I needed a change. This, coupled with a recently ordered pride flag, convinced me to come out to my friends. What I hadn't realized is that these things change; friends accepted me with open arms and we are stronger now for it.\n\nIf anyone comes across my story, know that escape is not the answer. Be involved, because this life is the one chance you get. Every obstacle in life is like a puzzle, one which must be solved to see the bigger picture to take a side; drugs, legal or illegal, only serve to change the pieces.\n