A Story Of A Gay Girls Painful Experience

Straight people say that being closeted is nothing, that being gay is a choice, that it is a sin and an insult to god. To those people i say “are you fucking mental!” You think i chose to sit at my lunch table shaking with anxiety as my parents talk about how “the gays” are disgusting and terrible. You think i want to have to ask the ever awkward question “are you into girls” when flirting with girls, because they think i’m just joking around and being cute when in all actuality i want to kiss them and not in the friend type way. You think that i want to be discriminated against as if i have an “i'm a Nazi and im coming to steal all your money kick me i dare you” sign on my back. Being gay is not a “statement”, it doesn’t make you popular, or make you’re crush jealous. No being gay means worrying about how your parents will react when you come out of the closet, if you even come out, being gay means that i have to be called rude slurs like faggot or dyke by people who don’t even know me. So what if i’m gay that doesn’t make me any different from anyone else. Thats my introduction to the story, this is my story and since everyone thinks that being gay is a crucial piece of my personality i decided to put my thoughts on me being gay as my introduction. Hi I'm Alex, the one and only outed dyke in brookstone high. Not to say that there aren’t others they just haven’t announced themselves with a giant parade assembly with our favorite transformer faggotron sitting on top of a float holding the short list of gay people in my small town. I wish that was a thing i’d essentially be the gay prom queen because no one else at my school would have the balls to sign up and wear the crown of dildos and flannel teeshirts and cuffed jeans, no one has the balls to come out and be proud at my school hell my town, not even me. Now you may ask “why Alex how are you out if you didn’t come out”, and i’ll tell you what for, 7th grade spin the bottle i got Alexa Martinez and as we sat in the closet counting down the minutes til our freedom my dumb ass thought it’d be fun to kiss her and see what happened, i’ll tell you what happened she kissed back, and then once i was fully calm in the kiss she screamed and announced my status as queen bee of the dyke community to our entire 7th grade class that attended the sleepover. Since then its been nothing but gay jokes and loades balls of spit and fragile masculinity that doesn’t understand a single thing about the human psyche or its sexual attractions. This isn’t a love story where I end up finding out I'm straight because the head quarterback who was just so dashing and filled with fueled homophobia that I just had to have him and his micropenis. Nor is it a love story involving the sex that i’m actually attracted to because i’m not that lucky. No this is a story about when my uncle left this world and left me all alone with these assholes. Picture this it's thanksgiving day i just had a long and butt scooching filled 2 hour car drive with my parents as they play their beloved christian rock and then god bless we finally made it to my sanctuary. I sprint to the door and am embraced in my uncles loving warm arms, hearing his gentle giant laugh. His laugh is such a big part of him that i want to give it a proper description, my uncle ricky's laugh was the kind of laugh that told you everything, that let you know that you were loved and valid while also chuckling and mocking you cus you just ran your 5’3 ass all the way up to this giant of a man who was only a metre away. He sweeps me off my feet into a kitchen filled with food that fills my belly til the brim until my stomach lining almost pops, his crystal blue eyes twinkling at you from across the dining table, telling you that yours and his’ jean buttons just popped from the future food coma awaiting you entering your mind. You enjoy the day, you face plant into the dirt while trying to flip on the swings, sliding down his playground slide filled with spiders. And then the best part is the biggest surprise you get an early christmas present, you don’t know why but you do.3 days later you get a tearful hug from mom. Uncle Ricky just shot himself in the head. Thats what happened to me, that was my thanksgiving holiday a couple years ago. One of the people I loved most was just gone poof like nothing, and as I sat scream crying in my mothers shaking arms I now realize that the early Christmas present was his parting farewell gift. Thanks uncle ricky this stupid furby totally makes up for your suicide all depressed thoughts just disapear once i hear its stupid squeaky language. No sadly that is not the case, he’s gone nothing can fix that and sometimes i wonder why he clicked the gun and headed off to the amazing party that is the afterlife. I mean sure I understand what it is to be suicidal. I've had the knife to my wrist tons of times, but I never did it, I never let the blood shed and my eyesight go black. No all I could think about was how my family would feel finding my dead body, planning my funeral, going to my funeral, other things you do with a dead body, and I just couldn’t. So what's the moral of this story folks, let your beloved family members end their lives and then all of a sudden because you know the pain they put you through you just magically no longer want to end your life. No that is not the moral of the story, i hope that's not the moral of any story that’d be fucked and the backlash shit, the moral of the story is that even when your at your worst there will always be someone to mourn your death and to hurt at the thought of you dying and the idea that you caused your own passing would most likely hurt them even more, so don’t literally just don’t, never die and forever make the ones you love happy. FIN