When "Gay" Is Still "Faggot"

I had a friend. I might be something to laugh about, but I met him online. It even was on some text and/or video website were 90% of the people were horny. I was bored, so I went there just to kill some time. I never thought I'd meet the one person that would change my whole life. I'm not exaggerating.  

Our conversation began with "Hi, asl?", just like most of the horny ones begin. I wanted to disconnect but you know what held me back? It was a :) at the end of his sentence. It might be stupid but thanks to that little thing, I met the most sweetest person I've ever met and probably will never meet again. We started talking, got to know each other and exchanged our Msn. I was worried that he might ask my picture and I knew I would be too worried and shy to show it. But I saw that he didn't have a picture either and he didn't ask. It gained a little of my trust, weird, right? We talked so random that I almost snorted some soda out of my nose. I had to push my hand against my mouth so I wouldn't laugh out loud, because when we talked, it was always late at night. It was so much fun, you wouldn't believe. After a while, I asked why he didn't have a picture and I also said I didn't care. He told me he had an ugly scar on his face and he felt like a monster with it, and that's why he didn't dare show me. He didn't tell me how he got that scar at the beginning but I confessed that I had scars too, so I knew how he felt. He asked how I got those scars and where they were. I figured I didn't have to be afraid because he was just another stranger and didn't know me in real life. I confessed that I made some of them myself, that I was a self-harmer. I thought that he would block me and I already felt sad, but he confused me by beginning to talk about a friend who also did it and that he sort of understood. He said it was bad for me, just like anyone else would say but he didn't pity me. He didn't call me crazy or weird and that's how he claimed my heart. I felt that he really cared and that he didn't judge me. He was the first person I really felt save with. I trusted him after knowing him for only a few hours.  

We talked and talked, day after day. We were random, we laughed, we cursed, we gave each other nicknames, we joked around and I always felt myself getting happy when the night came around. I got to my computer, started Msn and felt that I belonged there. In that little online world. When we knew each other 3 months, we both showed each other our pictures and left ourselves open to be wounded. But it was no disappointment, nor was it disgust. He said I was cute, which made me feel awkward, and he didn't say anything about the visible scar on my throat. I didn't say anything about his scar either, even though I could understand why he said it was ugly. It was just how he was, and it didn't bother me. He already was locked inside my heart. 

Another month passed with constant laughter every day. That's when he told me about a secret he kept hidden. He told me he was gay and lived with a family that either ignored him like he was shit, or beat him like he was a sandbag. He told me his dad broke his collar bone, his right arm in two places and his leg. He said he had bruises underneath his clothes. He told me he did it to protect his big brother, like he told some fiction story. When his dad beat his older brother, it was so bad that he had to go to the hospital twice. And when his dad beat my friend, it was just a little less painful, so he could bear it for his brother. It was so sad, I actually cried that night. I asked when it started and he said he was 12 when he first got beaten. It was because he told his family he was gay. They were the worst case homophobic, except for his brother who knew it before it was told. Only he smiled and supported him.  

He told me so much more. So much that I kept crying the entire night. I could almost feel my heart break. He got involved with the police because he had bad friends who made him feel like he wasn't just a little gay punching bag. And when he first smoked a joined, he felt like a king. Pills soon followed and made everything worse. He became violent in between a hole filled with sadness and an endless tunnel of suffering and shame. He hated himself. He hated everything about himself.