Preparing For A Gay Apocalypse

Coming out to my friend as being bisexual was not exactly the most rewarding experience of my life. I had thought he would be more accepting, especially considering how unsure I felt inside of myself. I knew I wasn't straight. That was a given. However, all he had to say to me was that most girls who come out as bisexual usually end up becoming lesbians anyway. I was quite confused, and slightly insulted. On the other hand, though, I actually believed his faulty notion that one day I would become a 'full grown lesbian'. 

At fifteen years old, I was in the throes of my online sexual presence; it was tiring, pointless, and when it didn't disgust me, it just bored me. Some nights I would spend the entirety of the hours between 10:30 pm and 5:00 am online...the hours my parents were in bed. During the day, as a homeschooler, I would be falling asleep so much my parents actually thought that I had narcolepsy. 

That October, right before my sixteenth birthday, I planned to come out to my parents as being gay. I was so terrified of what the repercussions would be that I stocked my closet as if I were preparing for the Apocolypse. Canned goods, gallons of water, blankets, a lighter, batteries, a bucket for excrement, toilet paper. Paper towels. In my mind, I honestly believed that I would either have to lock myself in my room for an unknown amount of time until it was safe to come out, or I would have to leave. 

The night before I came out I went to youth group with my brother. I bought us pizza and ice cream, and myself a t-shirt and a spooky music CD. I took video on my camera of my family telling me that they loved me, as I thought I might never hear it again. 

Then I stayed up all night scared stiff. 

Making sure that I caught my parents before my dad left for work that morning was a chore. He leaves for work really early, and I didn't want to have this conversation twice. 

I sat them down, and stumbled over a few words. Then blurted out that I was gay. All my mother did was get out of her seat and sputter something along the lines of, "I knew it. I knew you were going to do this to us" in a grossly unhappy, disgusted tone.  Everything else became a blur. Suddenly my parents were asking for my computer. Of course I didn't want to give it to them. I had even locked it to my desk. Somehow that morning, my dad and I got into a physical confrontation trying to go upstairs, and I locked myself in my bedroom, blocking the door with a sixty year old, extremely cumbersome desk. 

Needless to say, my dad got the computer, and I went out with my mom and brother. When I returned home, my bedroom door was gone, and a pink plastic tablecloth was in its place, blowing in the air-conditioned prison I called home. 

Every electronic I owned was taken away. Any schoolwork was to be done out where my mother could watch me; and oh, was she watching me.

Now was it because of my Internet activities, or because I said I was gay? I don't think anyone will ever know for sure. But in any case, they felt they could not trust me. Maybe they couldn't. How could they when I couldn't even trust myself? Whatever they did, they did the wrong thing. They never tried to talk to me. They never even attempted to understand. I think that that is all that any human being really wants in life; someone to sit down and listen, and try to understand. Even if they never will. If no one does that, than anyone is bound to go crazy. 

I know it didn't take me long to find the rabbit hole.