Stuff I wrote for school!

Retrospective Assignment

⚠️!WARNING SPOILERS!⚠️

"When I came out, it was on my 15th birthday," I start, my voice shaking as I speak. I take a deep breath in hopes of easing my nerves and shaking.

I could feel my friends, Zak and Darryl, staring at me over the screen. I switch my tabs so it is on the team speak. My camera wasn't on, saving me from the embarrassment if I cried or began scratching at my arm. A nervous tic I gained in seventh grade after everything that happened that year.

But this is a different story, one that most people aren't aware of. Less than ten people know this story I think, and only because I told them right after it happened.

"It was difficult, I already knew my parents wouldn't be supportive," I continued, my eyes watering with unshed tears. "But I hoped they would at least accept me, and maybe even use the right pronouns and name. But...they didn't."

"Pax..."

"Let me finish, please," I say, rubbing some tears from my eyes, my sleeve comes back slightly damp and with some of my foundation and eyeliner on it.

I take a deep breath, "I told them during dinner at Panera, Mat was there because I needed a little bit of support from her. Mental grounding in case it goes south. It did."

"My Dad yelled, he said I was confused and following a trend. My Mom was quiet. She shushed my Dad, who gave me a little bit of hope that she would at least accept me. I was so, so wrong."

"She sent my brothers to their friend's house when we got home, and she had Mat's parents pick them up. I said bye to Mat, and went back inside. My parents were waiting for me."

My voice goes quiet, my mind struggling to recall this part of the story.

"Sor-sorry. This part is hard to remember. Sorry," I apologize, stumbling over my words and thoughts, "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Zak assured me, I heard Darryl hum in agreement, "Take your time."

"Ok, thank you." I mumble into my mic, "Um, they...they um...they said somethings to me. I um... don't...um don't."

My voice gets choked up in my throat, salty tears run down my face. "Sor-sorry." I mumble into my mic, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Pax don't be," Darryl sighs, "You don't have to tell us this,"

"I-I..."
"Pax, go to bed."

"O-ok."