I’ve seen “Love, Simon” three times in the last ten days, and I’m not getting tired of it.

It’s a beautiful and touching adaptation of the book Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda that I think captures all the spirit and magic of the book so well that I can’t decide which I like more. The movie is more intense than the book, simply because it’s packing the whole story into only two hours. They made some character and relationship changes, but I was okay with them by the time my first showing ended. And there are some things movies can do better than books, like find the perfect actor or augment a scene with music.

This last time watching it, one scene hit me a little harder than it had before. After coming out to his family and having much of his outside world fall apart, he finally sits down to talk with his mom. I paraphrase, but the scene goes a little like this:

Simon: “Did you know?”

Mom: “I knew you had a secret. When you were little you were so carefree. But these last few years, it’s like I could feel you holding your breath. I wanted to help, but I didn’t want to pry. Maybe I made a mistake…”

Simon: “No, you didn’t make a mistake.”

Mom: “Right after you came out to us, you said “I’m still me.” I need you to hear this. You are still you, Simon. You are still the same boy who I like to tease, who always compliments his sister’s cooking… Being gay is your thing, and there are parts of it that you’ll have to go through alone, and I hate that. But you get to exhale now. You get to be more you than you have ever been before.”

Maybe it’s because I was watching it with a friend who is afraid to come out to their family. Or because I’m finally starting to let go of my own past hurts.

I never really had an extended period of time where I was keeping my sexuality a secret, because I never connected my “boy=cute” brain with the label “gay.” It was simply a part of me. And after I did make the connection, I never tried to pray it away.

But the side-effects. The effort of living in a culture where I had no romantic prospects and so I went through high school without ever falling in love. Discovering an outlet for these feelings that was discouraged by everyone I looked up to, but having no other way to obtain – even if only for a moment – some level of that unexplainable connection. Secretly and subconsciously fearing that if people knew what was really going through my head, they would hate me.

One of the important lines in the movie and trailers is this:

No matter what, announcing who you are to the world is pretty terrifying, because what if the world doesn’t like you?

Once I knew the words, I could find a community. I could share my experience with others who understood. I could find friends for the first time in years. And I could begin to feel all the things I had been missing.

In my dark years I would seek out movies or television in an effort to pierce through my walls and make me feel something. This movie reaches that place. In it I see the pain, loss, and fear of my youth. And in it I see the fun, joy, and love of my future.