Coming Out

Coming out to my parents was the worst idea I ever made in my entire life.
They don't see me anymore.
All they see is

My orientation.
I have become a puzzle piece that is stuck to a piece that they don't think I fit with.
I have become a stranger, underneath a mask, underneath a disguise, that they don't know how to address me as.
I have become a song that they used to know but have now removed from the playlist.

All they see is

My addiction.
I have become a container of spoiled milk that they left at the back of the refrigerator.
I have become the old church that caught in fire and now only deserves a sigh.
I have become a dropped iPhone that they'll miss because of the pictures but will soon replace.

All they see is

My disorder.
I have become an old vending machine that keeps spitting out old dollar bills.
I have become a vacuum cleaner that doesn't suck up all the dirt in the carpet.
I have become a battery that keeps leaking acid and ruining everything around it.

All they see is

My disease.
I have become a cigarette butt that takes just a little longer than usual to put out the final spark.
I have become a hand-me-down shirt that they don't want to hold on to but don't have the heart to throw out.
I have become a skinned knee on a child that just wants to keep running but suddenly, I'm holding him back.

That's all they see.
But all we see
Is their eyes.