Everyone deals with their pain somehow. Brett discloses his coping mechanism of choice...

"Maybe it was because that cat slept in my bed every night. I mean . . . my brothers aren't gay, and they DEFINITELY DIDN'T have a cat sleeping with them every night. Maybe it's because our family had small dogs. Maybe we should have had bigger, manlier dogs. idk. Maybe it was because dad never took me hunting when I was a kid . . . shooting wild animals might have made me straight."

"Because of its near universality, heterosexuality is one of the most unifying forces in all of humanity...Imagine missing that one key piece of your humanity and what that would feel like. It's a slow terror. And once you are gripped by that fear, a glowing red-hot brand ascends from the depths of the earth, up through rock and soil, and bursts forth to sear three black words right onto your heart . . . You. Are. Broken Part of being young and gay is the feeling of being broken, of being trapped inside a fleshy machine that is inexplicably flawed. And you have no idea why."

"Boobs have always kinda freaked me out. They're very scary to me, and the thought of touching one is like the thought of touching a wet bag of earthworms..."

The most emotional episode from the series....

"One of the lesser known burdens of being gay is that you live a lot of your life in your head. At a young age, you start having little conversations with yourself. And you keep having them—over and over and over again. And the conversations evolve . . . they intensify. They're all about how you got this way, and what went wrong, and what if so-and-so finds out, and what if _________ or _________ or _________ happens. These conversations are led by fear, fueled by self-doubt, and they all end with the same urgent warning echoing around in my skull: "TELL NO ONE.” A beautiful world spins around us—wild with life—pulsating with the beats of festival-joy, and here we are, staring at a cracked mirror hung crooked on the concrete walls of our minds. And this constant internal chatter, this constantly bubbling brain babble is never-ending . . .It's time-consuming, stressful, exhausting. It's a unique prison. It's an on-ramp to narcissism. It's like a starving man diving into a feast and then discovering it's his own soul he's eating..."

"Part of me wonders if I was running back then, running from the very faint idea that just maybe this badness was inside of me, like a crocodile—waiting—nestled deep in cold mud at the bottom of a lake. Maybe sports was my attempt at misdirection—a front, a mask, a smokescreen. I don't know, really. I know I genuinely liked sports, and they were fun for me. I always felt very manly in high school, at least in the Southern traditional sense of the word. I didn't mind sweating or getting dirty. I've always liked being a man..."

"A few years earlier, in junior high, I first noticed that I looked at the boys more. It was very subtle and innocent. It was like I envied them...I wanted them to like me. It didn't feel like a sexual attraction back then, but they definitely caught my eye. It never crossed my mind that this could be ho-mo-sex-u-a-li-ty. But I knew what the "h" word was by then because the Christian culture had already schooled me in it. I knew allll about it..."

Brett is crushed by the worst news of his life...

Brett has a bizarre spiritual encounter on the floor of a church in Pensacola, Florida.