Sincerely

Cincere

I'm gay.

Might as well get that out of the way before anything else.

People don't run away or scream bloody murder when they find out that I'm gay. I make it pretty clear. Not by "acting gay" (whatever that even means), but by "warning" people beforehand. Why does being gay need a warning label? I couldn't tell you. But I learned that it does very early on. I never know when to slap the warning on my forehead, since some people don't really give a shit. And other people will never let it go and make it your whole personality for you. Maybe I'm just a flirtatious person. Maybe I wish I could be like the straight guys in my class that joke about sucking each other's dicks and get laughs around the room, not weird and disgusted looks. Maybe I wish I could make eye contact with a guy without them looking away out of the weird "I don't wanna seem gay" tension.

Or maybe I just need to stop giving a shit. Well it's a good thing I already have. I've learned my lesson by now. Sometimes I wish I got the same "warning" label everyone else gets when I tell them I'm gay. The warning of what their reaction would be. I wish some people had a gigantic blinking sign saying "HEY! I'm extremely homophobic!" That would be helpful. But then again, there's nothing helpful about being gay. I've been told that it's just an inconvenience and I'm so strong for being able to "deal with it".

Deal with it? Really?

Like it's a cancer? Some kind of virus? Something I can fight against it and maybe one day finally win. I'm sure if I came out as straight today, if I just suddenly "changed my mind", a lot of people would be happy. A lot of people wouldn't believe me. And most people wouldn't give a shit. Cause it's how I'm supposed to be. Why celebrate the bare minimum right? The "normal"?

Yeah, I wouldn't celebrate if someone came up to me and told me they were straight. But I also wouldn't throw a "Yay! You're Gay!" party for someone who's gay either. I just see it as something that's a part of me. If someone asks for my hair color I would say dark brown and that I definitely need a haircut. If someone asked for my eye color I would say light brown, but one time a nice girl told me they looked like honey pools in the sun. She was poetic. And if someone asked for my height I would say 6'5, and no, I don't play basketball and I never will. And that my favorite color is sage green, My favorite song is CHOKE by IDKHBTFM, I write poems and music, I smoke a lot of weed.

And I also like men.

Now why does that part get underlined? Why is that part the make or break of a friendship? I can tell by the simple eye brown movements, the deep inhale, the awkward glance away. The checking the time, the smiling a bit too much, the tapping, the knuckle scratching. The excuse to walk away and never come back, even when they promise to give me my pencil back (they never did). Maybe they wanted a souvenir from the one (outwardly) gay guy at Timex.

That One Gay Guy. Yup, that's me.

But if you wanna be a bit more formal, my name is Cincere Hobbes. I'm seventeen.

And I like to write, smoke weed, and make music. I also like to skateboard and collect weird shit like bones and teeth. I'm adopted (don't say "wow that's terrible, I'm so sorry") by my aunt and I go to Timex Magnet High school.
Again.

And yeah, I'm gay.

Sound the fucking alarm.

I wake up at 6:50 for the first day of school. The sun is still down, so you can't tell me that it's too late of a time to wake up and get ready. Plus, it's my last year of school and I haven't been to a physical school since freshman year. So give me a damn break. It's tiring enough already when you know just how badly the day is going to go before you even step foot out of bed. You can hear the whispers, the shuffling, the bell ringing to tell all the conformist that they can empty their bladder in a 5 minute time period, and also run across the school to make it to their class just in the nick of time. Sure, I'm giving school a lot of shit right now even though I haven't been in one in 3 years. And I wish I never had to go in one again.

I'm not stupid or anything, I just like what I like. I do what I want to do and I won't pretend to be invested in shit I'm gonna forget in the next 5 years or the next 5 days. People love to tell people that don't like school that they don't like it because of how "challenging" it is for them. Like, no, school just sucks. The teachers suck, the work sucks, and most of all the students suck. School is one big popularity contest and no one is winning. And if you think you are, you're not. Just trust me. Being popular fucking sucks anyways. Everyone just loses.

Alright, rant over. School time.

I stretch for an abnormally long time. Popping every bone back into place. You never know when a really good stretch is over. But unfortunately, I don't have the time to have my stretch meet it's full potential. I groan as I get out of bed, blinking slowly and letting my eye blur die down. I stare at my feet.

I actually have to go to school today. What the fuck.

It's been years since I've seen everyone. It's been years since everyone's seen me. Even the small group of people who saw me for me, and not the label everyone has put on me since I came out, I haven't even talked to them once I got out of school and started homeschooling. I don't know, I didn't want to drag them down with me. Parts of me felt like they were only being my friends because, well, who else would be? Who knew that once you say you like men, the whole world would turn their back on you.

I don't know, the only important one who did was Lee. He kinda was my world.

Shit I'm gonna be late.

I hop out of bed and rush over to my chair, picking up the cleanest looking jacket and throwing that on while I pick up some socks from under my desk. I slip those on and glance at the clock.

7:10. I'll be alright. What do you learn in the first 5 minutes of class on the first day of school anyways? I brush my teeth and put on deodorant at the same time. My hair looks gigantic and unkept, as usual. And yet somehow, I'm still able to pull it off. I spit out my toothpaste and stare at it as it washes down the drain. My stomach sinks along with it. Shit, why now does my anxiety have to get to me? Who cares what other people think, this won't be like freshman year.

Maybe I just want things to go back to the way they used to be.

But what does that even mean? Having Mom and Dad back? Living back in Santa Marta, and playing outside more than I stayed in school. Playing in the sun for hours, just to come back home to the chilling sound of glass breaking and voices booming off of the thin walls.

Alright, maybe not that far back.

Maybe back in 6th grade when I met my first friend cause everyone else thought that he was too intense. When really he was just passionate and didn't have time for stupidity or mediocrity. I liked that about him, even though I'm a pretty mediocre guy.

I spit out the rest of my toothpaste and rinse my mouth out. My gut wrenches as I swallow the water, hoping I would swallow my anxiety along with it. No such luck.

I'm nervous, I admit it.

I look at myself in the mirror. Even though I was done getting ready, I still looked like I just got out of bed. I wink at myself, and though I feel like I should cringe at the fact that I did, I didn't. If I can admit that I'm anxious I can at least also admit that I'm good looking.

I breathe out and pat down the wrinkles on my jacket. I can do this.

Just don't be too obvious. Don't be a walking label.

And don't bet on seeing Lee again.

Easy.

7:28.

I grab my keys and open my bedroom door with a clammy hand. If I drive a bit over the speed limit, I could eat some breakfast. Maybe that will help my stomach feel better.