Mom, I really don’t want to go to school.

Don’t be ridiculous, you haven’t missed a day since kindergarten. Why?

I just need a break. Lie. Don’t you think I’ve earned it?

Are you being made fun of? Is it Billy again? Because I can have a talk with his mother.

No Mom, no ones making fun of me. Yet. I just need a day to relax.

So you’re just going to sit in your room all day? That doesn’t sound very productive.

Please, Mom. 

Oh fine. How about I get out of work early and take you to Friendly’s? She finally looked up from her crossword. At least that way you’ll have a better lunch than ramen noodles.

You’re the best. Ignoring the fact he hasn’t gone to Friendly’s or eaten ramen noodles since he was at least 8 years old, he turned before she could see his watery eyes and hastily retreated to his room. He closed the door to the dangerous world and slid into the safety of his bed. His laptop remained his one link to that perilous realm, looming on his desk. How long would it take before the fire caught and destroyed his life? Surely they were talking about it now, a whisper in the halls, a laugh, a text, a message, a post. Has he already lost friends? Is he a liability, is he a poison that will ruin anyone’s social life who he comes in contact with? He sprung from the bed, but halted before the laptop. Better to wait, to see it all at once, then plan on how best to deny it all. He flipped on the tv and waited for his mother. Maybe it’ll be fun, I used to love Friendly’s. Back when we were all just kids and no one cared how anyone acted or dressed, or who they kissed.

He waited, watching the clock as it passed from 11:00, to noon, to 1:00, to 1:15, to 1:30. She should have been home by now. The laptop is still staring at him. 1:45, 2:00, He opens the laptop. 2:15, He opens his web browser, to find a million red flags, a thousand comments, each one filled with hate and his heart is about to beat out of his chest. He’s about to type, he dosn’t know what, but he has to deny. I… am… not…  His front door opens, and he nearly falls out of his chair. He bursts through the door, needs to get out. He needs to get him self together.

You’re late. He calls, trying to sound as indifferent as ever. 

A wizard is never late. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to. Of course he recognized the voice, and when he ran out into the hall and saw the tall figure in the grey robe, the grey hat, the long, straggly beard, and the wooden staff, he was sure that Gandalf the Grey was standing in his living room.

Denying who you are is no way to live. The greatest fool is the one who does not embrace what makes himself himself. Gandalf shambled slowly up the steps, his staff making a loud thud with each step. He still hadn’t regained the capacity for speech when Gandalf walked past him and entered his room. Dumbly, he followed him in where he found him standing over his computer.

Well, did you read all of those comments? Maybe you should, before you go ahead with your current course of action.

Still silent, he moved past him and bent over his laptop. He read the first one:

Haha, I knew you were a fag! It was liked five times. He closed his eyes in pain, but felt an arm on his shoulder.

How about you read the next one.

He opened his eyes: Who cares? Why don’t you all just get a life and leave him alone. It was liked twelve times. Suddenly he examined his page and noticed that for every hateful comment, there were at least two that were in his favor. People he didn’t even know were standing up for him, some were his friends, some were complete strangers. Some were popular, and some even admitted to being gay themselves, like it was no big deal. He smiled for the first time that day, and with tears in his eyes tried to thank Gandalf, but no sound came out.

No need to thank me boy. You’re life begins now. Your life as a happy, contented, and normal person.

With tears in his eyes he shut his laptop and layed down in his bed, letting his pillow soak up his tears, and he quickly fell asleep.

And that is where his mother found his body, because Gandalf the Grey did not come to him in his darkest hour. He was alone, and there was nobody there to put an arm on his shoulder and show how much people cared for him. There was only himself, a mind full of hate, and a bottle of pills.