For the first seventeen years of my life everything was simple and easy. My parents were caring, sensible and supportive, and though they were not rich, we always had everything we needed and lots of things we didn't really need at all. At school I got good grades without working too hard and I got on well with most of my classmates. Even my adolescent acne hadn't been at all traumatic - it had come and gone in a flurry of spots for a few months when I was fourteen.

By the time I was sixteen I was pretty sure, but not certain, that I was gay, and that gave me a few concerns about the future but I didn't agonise about it. It was just something I'd eventually have to deal with, like A-level exams and getting into university. However, I wasn't ready to deal with it just yet and I was firmly in the closet.

The best part of my life was that I had several good friends and two people in particular were very special for me: a best friend who was like a brother and my brother who was one of my best friends. Soon after my seventeenth birthday I came to realise how important friendships can be, how easy it can be to neglect a friendship, and that friendship is not always easy.