An Array of Colors

If he wasn’t gay then he sure seemed fruity. He did smell like fruit…hehe. But his rainbow hair, tighter than skin pink jeans, neon green converse and a neon green shirt were screaming, ‘Come pick on me! I’m gay!’ No way is it normal for a guy to dress like that at his old school. Not to mention the heavy black lining that surrounds his eyes. He looked like a stereotypical upbeat, gets beat up every day of his life, gay guy.

I didn’t expect him to change his answer about being gay once I asked and he didn’t. But I didn’t believe him. How could he not be? Why did I even care?

I guess I’m just sick of being the only out person in this school. I’ve actually had people come up to me and talk about their sexuality. It’s always awkward. Like ‘Heeeey, I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to tell me this but I don’t know you very well…’ and they’re like ‘You’ve helped me so much! Thank you. Maybe I’ll come out soon…’ Of course that’s always a lie. They see what I go through and why would they subject themselves to that? Not a lot of people have really talked to me. I’d consider all the ones that did acquaintances because they talk to me occasionally on a semi-regular basis. No one wants to be seen talking to me unless they can hold their own, so it all depends on how many people are around at the time. And how accepting those people are…

The real homophobes around here are well known and everyone steers clear of them. Even the people who are also homophobes. What our entire town means by real homophobes are the ones who act on their annoying emotions. I understand that everyone is entitled to their opinions but if that means you’re going to hurt people than you’re going too far. I’m not going to try and tell them that being gay is perfectly fine, that they’re wrong and narrow-minded, that they have to stop thinking the way they do; because really, that makes me just like them. I can’t make them change their views, but I can ask them to stop acting so rashly on them.

They beat me up because I’m gay, because I’m a slut, because I’m artistic, because I expand my mind, because I have a high voice, because I like skipping through flower filled fields while holding guys hands and singing happy shit. Yeah right. They assume those things about me because I’m gay. I’m not like them and that scares them, but that’s like me saying straight people are the ones who are wrong when I’m obviously incorrect saying that. That’s like people saying that I’m not a person even though I have the same anatomy, similar DNA, I’m not like them. All because of who I love. I’m not going to tell them they can’t think that, although it hurts me. I don’t really care what they think because I know that I’m right. I’m obviously a person and I don’t deserve to be beaten just because of my preferred gender to love.

I’ve seen pregnant girls at the age of fifteen and they seriously receive less scorn than I get from people who know my sexuality. Well, thank you very much, but I am a virgin unlike what most stereotypes say about gay people. If I was born gay does that mean I was born a slut? I’d like to ask these people some questions. They get their very flawed answers from their Bibles and expect me to believe. As if there is really a god. I highly doubt that. And even if there is he doesn’t seem very nice. Why would he say that everyone is accepted but being gay is wrong? Why would he make people this way if it was wrong? I know people spout bullshit about free will, but that’s definitely rubbish. If we had free will then what about god’s pre-laid out plan? And how would he know how everything is going to happen if we made our own choices? It just doesn’t make sense and I’m not going to throw my faith into something that doesn’t even support me.

But I’m not going to go into a full-blown rant about my beliefs. That was just a mini one.

What was it that I was thinking about that lead to my head rambling? Oh yeah, I’m sure that Silver is gay. I’m positive. As stupid as it sounds I have a gaydar. I do hate that word though; it makes gay people sound like a worthless piece of scrap metal that’s easily detected.

Let me tell you that is not the truth. Sometimes the gears in my gaydar are churning for hours, days, weeks even. It all depends on the person I’m scanning.

This one was easy. It just took one look at him. It wasn’t even his appearance although technically it could be considered that. But it was in his aura. I don’t even know how being gay can show in your aura, it just does. Have I mentioned that I can see aura’s if I really want to? Well, now I have. Most people can do it, they just don’t realize they can.

I was angry with Indigo for driving Silver to hide himself. Sometimes hiding can hurt more than being beaten every day. Sometimes being cut apart internally is worse than being cut apart on the outside. I hoped that all the people hiding themselves would realize that. What’s the point in living if you aren’t even going to be yourself? You’ll just be miserable and if people can’t accept you they don’t deserve you. That’s how I try to view the world anyway.

I don’t want to have a sad life. That’s why I stay away from people. I’ve noticed that all they do is drag you down under water and then push themselves up using your head. But they don’t realize what they’re doing until you’re already drowned and they’re safe. Occasionally they’ll drown with you, but rarely. I’m not going to let myself sink so I don’t let anyone grab hold of me. No one’s even swimming in the same pool as me. There’s no way I’ll go under.

I hadn’t realized that when I was thinking I’d been painting, but I looked at my paper and I saw a girl being strangled by a cross necklace at the bottom of a pool. It was extremely eerie and I shivered when I looked at her eyes, which had no pupils. They were just white. White. Staring at me somehow; looking soulless.

Did I really just do that subconsciously? Sometimes…I worried myself…no one else was there to worry about me anyway…my parents were gone…only visited on holidays when I was lucky. At least they were still very much in love with each other and they weren’t only together because of me. That’s the way Jasper’s parents were. I mean, they hated each other but they didn’t want to get a divorce until Jasper moved out. I was kind of jealous though. My parents would get a divorce if they wanted to, not caring about the toll it would take on me. Not like it would effect me anyway. They could break off their union and I wouldn’t even find out until two years later anyway. Ok, maybe a little exaggeration…

I just didn’t see the point in my money. I didn’t have anything I wanted to spend it on, other than my art supplies but it was rarely $700,000 for art supplies. And that was just the money my parents gave me for now. When they died I would inherit a lot more. I was so happy that I had cousins who were taking over the business though.

I remembered when I first came out to my parents. It was a rare occasion when they’d randomly come home just to see ‘their lovely son they miss so much.’ Yeah, bitch? If you missed me so much you wouldn’t leave as often.

Anyway, I wasn’t really that nervous. My uncle was gay and my parents never really talked to him but they didn’t kick him out of the family either, although they didn’t have much of a choice…

My dad had just told me he was disappointed and my mom had said, ‘We really only came home to tell you that you won’t be inheriting the business in person.’

I love my parents. Ok, I really do. No matter how horrible they are it’s not like they ever abused me and they provide for me well. They might not be all lovey-dovey, but the world is harsh and I learned that from a young age. I think it was easier that way. At least I didn’t have naïve fantasies that were crushed when I grew up.

My parents love me too, they tell me whenever they come home and while that might not be often it’s enough for me. I like to know I’m not dependent on anyone. I got a job and only try to use my money just to keep things that way.

I can support myself. I’m strong and I don’t need anyone to hold me up. Especially not my parents.