And In This Closet...

Things I'd Never Say; Words I Would Never Speak: Hello Diary

How would it go? Would it be simple and easy to say? … Is anything easy to say? Well, yeah... lots of things are easy for me to say, but of course those that I’ve spent my life not saying, will always be hard to get rid of. Thinking about it now, I’ll probably never get what I so earnestly yearn for and maybe that’s for the best, but what’s going to happen with that? I’ve tried my life putting these pieces together and they don’t fit. I’m certain. It’s like my whole life’s been a lie and I know it sounds dramatic, but it really is (and I’m not PMSing, or if I was my whole life has been one long mood swing). One minute I’m happy, pushing sins to the back of my mind and the next I’m crying to sleep hoping to God that when I wake up it’ll be gone. I don’t try to understand how this happened to me but all I know is that I have it. I have the disease that is shunned from all of Christianity, and most importantly, the most important people in my life and God himself. I have the disease that when spoken of makes rooms and crowds of people awkward. I have the disease that would tear families apart. I have the disease that will rake only disapproval from everything and everyone that I love. I have this disease. I wish everything was like writing. The only interest in my life; the only talent I possess. If only this prowess could be something useful, well it is, but useful in the sense that it could save my life useful. I’m really looking forward to reading this all; like reading it would save me, would catch me. I don’t know who to turn to or what to do for that matter. I need someone. I need someone so desperately. An outside opinion is so hard to get when there are so many weirdos online. Sometimes this seems so fake: everything that I feel. It’s like one minute I’m in my normal life, all carefree and stressless and then next I’m here. These thoughts have always just been in my head, so when it seems real I just kinda freak out, because it’s like my head is my world. That the two finally meet. I feel fake right now. I feel like I’m writing about someone else. It’s disgusting really, just that I can’t get my life straight. Straight. Haha... only thing I’ve wished since I was little. I guess I was one of the "lucky ones", so they say. I knew from the beginning. So I guess the only advantage was that I had a few years to understand and cry over how horrifying this disease was. Is. I was talking to Tracy today and I realized something. THIS IS SUCH A BIG DEAL! No matter how many Christians try to downsize this: It’s a huge deal. This is like a matter of life and death kinda ish. It’s just that, if it were people that didn’t have the disease, if they could fully comprehend what it meant, they would all be running scared. 1 out of 10 people right? Lucky me. It’s ironic though, I’ve never been that one out of anything, I’ve always kinda just been that one in the back and it’s just beautiful that God chose me for this. This and that bowling ticket I won in grade 2. Something else I’ve realized is that I’ve never been able to stand and look at someone in the eyes, portraying how I really felt about the situation... or for them. It’s such a Hollywood movie moment to do stuff like that though, but it seems crucial to life, if you feel like living it. I really want to live life to its fullest and I don’t know how many people without the disease don’t. I mean they have nothing to worry about; nothing to fear. Whatever happened to the saying, "grab the bull by its horns?" If I didn’t have this disease I would do just that, but I guess it’s easier said than done. I feel bad though, not just for me and usually that’s the only person I care for, but for the other kids who have to suffer through this. Possibly kids that I know. Possibly people that I love. I’m not quite sure how I feel about them having the disease, but it’s obvious that it’s more than one out of ten people now. I wonder who, among the people I know, have it. It’s strange to think that others could suffer just as I do, but I guess people have grown accustomed to hiding things it’s almost a second nature –the first being to blurt it all out- because I know I have. I wonder if I kept writing, how many pages I could fill with my mind. Maybe I can pull together my mind and this world I live in. What should I do? It’s terrible to think about things like this cause sometimes problems and issues are just like... dealable. This problem isn’t. Maybe some people would disagree but I bet they’re the ones without it. It’s hypocritical really, how so many people can think about this disease in a cynical point of view for us (as the diseased), but fall into the trap when they get it, if they get it. It’s actually very likely since many people don’t find out till later on in their years. Now I’m reaching the end of this page and I’m wondering: will I continue? Will I just erase and forget it was ever written? Will I save it and permanently make it official. I have the disease. I know that, but will the world? Will I never get to see this page of thoughts again? I have the disease. It’s spilled onto another page of virtual paper and so I guess it is decided. It’s true now; I will have to continue this endless circle till I find what I’m looking for. The end or the beginning? I don’t know exactly what I’m looking for right now or maybe ever, but I do know one thing. I have the disease. I have had it since I was born. It has infected my body and mind. It has distorted my view of life, future and present. It has made my life unbearable and disappointing. It has given my joy and heartache. It has given me mostly heartache. It has numbed my senses and views from a Christian point of view. It has made me question God –the one that deserves anything but questions. It has made me cry. It has made me light-headed. But now it is me, for I have the disease: I am a bisexual. If only I could erase it from my life, like I can from this computer. I’m gay and I’m scared. Scared the shit out of my mind! How could this happen to me? What does this mean? Why can it be wrong for me to love... and the stupid internet! How could people be so inconsiderate! I try to get help I really do. I try to find sites to help me cope with this but every time I click on a link its some gay porn or some random site to do with something other than being a confused fifteen year old gay!