A closet, for me.
Mom, I’m gay…
I think that this is probably the most daring task… Telling your parents that you are you. I remember when I bliksemed out of the closet. I was having a fight with the ex. And was crying. What I didn’t know was that my grandmother (as usual) was spying on me and listened to every single word I was saying. Thought the snot and tears she overheard me talking to a lover I am about to loose. The same lover I gave my life to. Also the same lover who stole my virginity.
Ok, I am not going to talk about that boring subject again. That’s a chapter I think need to be closed. Will do so in my next post.
As I was saying, gran was listening to my conversation. And when I hanged up, IMEADIATELT she came talking to me. I mean, for fucks sake! I don’t have any privacy!
Well I told her I am gay and did so with my mother as well. As you’ve all guessed, they do NOT accept me being a moffie!
Well today is one of those days again. I went to buy chocolates at the corner café, and when I returned, she asked me if I went to see Emil.
I mean, everything has to stop somewhere, but just exactly WHERE? is that somewhere?!
So I flipped! I told her that she will never trust me. And if I am out of this God deserted house, she will never see me again. Because of them always checking me from behind, I am becoming a NUN!
Tonight is one of my friends’ birthdays. I am invited, but can I go? NO! I cannot because there is this fucking twit trying to convert me to straight!
FUCK!
It is time that I make myself clear! I didn’t get out of bed one day and said to my creator, “God, I am now xx years old. And I think I want to be gay.” Oh my word! NO! In fact, I think, no, rather, I KNOW, being gay is not easy! And if it was a decision, I sure as hell would’ve chosen the straight road. Loving girls and as they say, “being normal!”
I am 17 years old now, and in Grade 11. One more year to go and then I am out of this jail! Not literally, but I need to be myself! Not a pretender pretending that I am A sexual at the moment! Because I am NOT!
As Amy Lee says in her lyrics of Hello, ‘If I smile and don’t believe, soon I know I wake from this dream, don’t to try to fix me, I’m not broken, Hello. I’m the lie living for you so you can (hide). I don’t cry.’ I am living a lie. I am the definition of sorrow. I am constantly faking a smile in front of them, but at night in the darkness of my room, a razor helps me to relieve the physical, not even emotional anymore, pain.
I don’t cry. I don’t know the feeling of wetness, the feeling of tears running down my cheeks. I don’t know how it feels getting up in the morning with a song in my mind. Humming the tune while taking a shower. No, that is the life I had. Now I get up, and the first think I do, is applying salve to my still wet wounds of the previous night, and then take a Bio Plus, just to help me keeping my eyes open while I am eating my breakfast.
Is this the life I am supposed to have? A life of lies, deceit. Hatred. Betrayal. Pain and suffering. It is like I am dying this slow emotionless death, and if you take that final pill, you realize that this life isn’t made for you, but now it is too late. That sleeping pill is already taking you to another place where suffering is inadequate.
I think that this is probably the most daring task… Telling your parents that you are you. I remember when I bliksemed out of the closet. I was having a fight with the ex. And was crying. What I didn’t know was that my grandmother (as usual) was spying on me and listened to every single word I was saying. Thought the snot and tears she overheard me talking to a lover I am about to loose. The same lover I gave my life to. Also the same lover who stole my virginity.
Ok, I am not going to talk about that boring subject again. That’s a chapter I think need to be closed. Will do so in my next post.
As I was saying, gran was listening to my conversation. And when I hanged up, IMEADIATELT she came talking to me. I mean, for fucks sake! I don’t have any privacy!
Well I told her I am gay and did so with my mother as well. As you’ve all guessed, they do NOT accept me being a moffie!
Well today is one of those days again. I went to buy chocolates at the corner café, and when I returned, she asked me if I went to see Emil.
I mean, everything has to stop somewhere, but just exactly WHERE? is that somewhere?!
So I flipped! I told her that she will never trust me. And if I am out of this God deserted house, she will never see me again. Because of them always checking me from behind, I am becoming a NUN!
Tonight is one of my friends’ birthdays. I am invited, but can I go? NO! I cannot because there is this fucking twit trying to convert me to straight!
FUCK!
It is time that I make myself clear! I didn’t get out of bed one day and said to my creator, “God, I am now xx years old. And I think I want to be gay.” Oh my word! NO! In fact, I think, no, rather, I KNOW, being gay is not easy! And if it was a decision, I sure as hell would’ve chosen the straight road. Loving girls and as they say, “being normal!”
I am 17 years old now, and in Grade 11. One more year to go and then I am out of this jail! Not literally, but I need to be myself! Not a pretender pretending that I am A sexual at the moment! Because I am NOT!
As Amy Lee says in her lyrics of Hello, ‘If I smile and don’t believe, soon I know I wake from this dream, don’t to try to fix me, I’m not broken, Hello. I’m the lie living for you so you can (hide). I don’t cry.’ I am living a lie. I am the definition of sorrow. I am constantly faking a smile in front of them, but at night in the darkness of my room, a razor helps me to relieve the physical, not even emotional anymore, pain.
I don’t cry. I don’t know the feeling of wetness, the feeling of tears running down my cheeks. I don’t know how it feels getting up in the morning with a song in my mind. Humming the tune while taking a shower. No, that is the life I had. Now I get up, and the first think I do, is applying salve to my still wet wounds of the previous night, and then take a Bio Plus, just to help me keeping my eyes open while I am eating my breakfast.
Is this the life I am supposed to have? A life of lies, deceit. Hatred. Betrayal. Pain and suffering. It is like I am dying this slow emotionless death, and if you take that final pill, you realize that this life isn’t made for you, but now it is too late. That sleeping pill is already taking you to another place where suffering is inadequate.
posted by Too cute for you. at 2:25 PM
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