Censorship

Have you ever just wanted to express yourself but couldn't? Well I have and it was fucking shit. Nobody understood me and nobody really cared. You see, I'm gay. But, in a country where being who you are is illegal, people don't think or talk about it and it's all kept in a metaphorical closet. People don't want to understand or even try to be understanding, they believe you can be cured like you're sick or something, that God can save you and you won't end up in hell. 

Thank goodness my parents sent me to an international boarding school. Although in the same country and there were still the same homophobic people in the boarding community, I was allowed more freedom and had excess to being whoever I wanted to be. It was thrilling and exciting and scary and new. It was a ball of emotions and I loved it. But I still wasn't expressing myself fully. I couldn't tell anyone, because I was just starting to make friends and I was just trying to make it from day to day and I enjoyed talking to my roommates and housemates and teachers and even the Indian lunch ladies in the dining hall. I didn't want them to think that something was wrong with me and I didn't want to feel rejected. So, I hid it. Kept it locked up behind closed doors. And it when on like this for days, and then for months and then the whole schooling year. And even though I wasn't being my complete self, it was enough for me. 

Till I went back home. Things stayed the same after I left. I was still the quiet one that had friends but nobody really knew who he was, and to my parents I was the good Christian child that hate anything sinful and was definitely not gay. To be restricted from expressing myself was terrible. It felt like locking away everything I felt made me who I  was as a person away. I had to pretend I believed that God hates gays and I had to stop being to "feminine" and be a "guy". Bullshit. I am who I want to be I can be whoever I choose to be. And then I realized that this school is my only chance I'll get to ever being me. 

I first came out to a friend, which in hindsight wasn't the best choice, because she was and still is a follower. She had a worst identity crisis than me. She wanted to be white, and wanted to be Indian, and wanted to be Latino. She couldn't not make up her mind. She was easy to manipulate and was vain as a poodle. She was utterly the most basic bitch I knew. I wished it wasn't her I came out to first and it wasn't because she didn't understand she did and was very supportive. But to me coming out wasn't just about being gay it was about being myself and if she wasn't herself, why the fuck would she understand? She did what was expected from an "understanding friend" she said there is nothing wrong with me and it's ok and we can talk more if I wanted to. And at that time, I was just grateful for her listening and thoughts were just rushing around my body and my emotions were just overflowing and for once in my life I felt my life was changing for the better. 

And it did. It was beautiful a whole new me was emerging from the shell I was hiding in for so long and it was just amazing. I couldn't tell you how it felt but it was just so intense and so raw and it was so me. After telling her, I didn't tell anyone else that week. It was just so scary and everything was so new I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone else. But eventually I told another person and then another person and then another and another, till I felt everyone I trusted was well informed of my gayness. Most were fine with it, and some were very curious about my sexuality and a few just didn't get it. I still remember one saying "your type" and that made me so pissed. I am not a "type" I am me. There is no one that is like me so therefore have no "type". The person never understood me and frankly I didn't care. Leave those that are only there in your life that hinder you and only create problems. 

Life was good and still is. I am myself and I have people that understand me right by my side. Many more have already found out and they support me or prefer not to ask questions. Fine by me. They say it's a new me. But I say it's the me that I have always been.

Found this random essay I wrote like 3-4 years ago. And yes I hate myself for this. Oh well. We learn from our past or something along those lines. I promise I will post more regularly. TRY.

Love,

Ez