Writing a short piece for my non-fiction class

that’s supposed to be about my experience with writing college essays, but of course I’ve trailed off into black and queer identity and my struggles with both throughout middle school which influenced my choice in what high school I wanted to go to which placed me in a less homophobic but implicitly racist environment, and writing about this has unpacked a new facet of my adolescence that I never really knew existed. Writing is understanding, and I’ve realized that I was never really free until I came out.