Alright so, I had read this book before. For a long while, as I was remembering liking it, I thought about opening it back up again. This year, I finally did so.
Alas, I'm not feeling that enamoured this time. This book/memoir is made of three types of contents, for lack of a better word. There are texts, pictures, and poems. 
Well, the written parts are very repetitive to me, in vocabulary and sentence rythms... it's, often, indeed written like a diary you do not expect anyone else to read, except, this one got published. There's too many telling, not enough showing: "As he does, my mind plays games with me, repeatedly whispering insecure, heartbreak-induced words in my ear, like worthless, pathetic, and pointless." yes, true, but we need to feel it. I have depression, I live through it, still it feels... robotic? It's hard to describe how I felt reading this book, this time. Detached, I believe. Unmoved, as well. 
To be noted, sometimes there will be a sudden breakthroughs through a paragraph or a chapter, about depression or some other dark feeling. Out of nowhere, something WILL be nicely written, showing, moving. It's just that isn't the case for the majority of the "texts" in the book. And I believe I'm, anyway, not a great target for rich, white american men's memoirs, even if they're gay and depressed. I got extremely annoyed at a LOT of the "motivation speeches" I could see through this book. It's easy to speak when you've got a perfect family, money overflowing your bank account, health and a great support system. This is not my case. Still, of course, I hope the author escaped from his depressive demons!

As for the poems, I must have enjoyed half of them. Poetry is something deeply personal, and we cannot really judge it, so, I won't. I'll just say there were some I really truly loved, and others I couldn't give less of a shit about. An example of some poem that I deeply felt:

"the scariest moment comes

when my eyes remain open

through an hour

empty of answers
"

Finally, the pictures... I LOVED THEM. Every single photography, the way it was shot, the colours, the eye that Connor Franta seem to have for that art is very real. Kudos for that!