My Confessional

9. Target Practice

When you're gay, it feels like a huge target is always on your back. Feeling of someone is always peeking over your shoulders, silently correcting the mistakes they want to change. "He's too feminine", "Why can't he like football", "Why does he act like a girl", just some of the comments I feel like I'm getting every single day of my life. For me that's all it was, silent corrections, never actually crossing me in real life, but always bursting to life behind closed doors.

September 14th 2015, a cool autumn morning followed by a hot summer afternoon in gym, but my real fun didn't start until approximately 8:15 pm. After the wrestling and what seemed like endless games came to an end, the sun faded over the horizon and the moon took its place as guardian of the sky. I just sat on my couch, a disgusting brown color with the smell of dog looming around, with the TV off and Ipod blaring, ready to relax. The musky air of the thousand year old house now familiar to me, after almost two years of residing there. The two seconds of silence between switching songs is when my phone jumped with animation, buzzing slices the silence of the room as I stare at emptiness.

An unknown number, something totally knew for me, should I answer it? Should I just let it ring? Why is someone calling me and how did they get my number? Moments of quick thought before it was gone, slowly relaxing back in the couch, the plush feeling taking me before getting interrupted again by the ring of my phone, a generic noise because I was too lazy to change it, also being that It really wasn't important.

By this time I can't help but stare, my old samsung galaxy sliding across the wooden coffee table. I slowly pick up the phone, waiting in silence, waiting for them to initiate conversation, nothing. About twenty seconds pass before the caller gives up but I'm not going to relax yet, now my mind won't let me. A repetitive cycle, the phone chimes one last time before I decide that I have to be brave.

"Hello?" I say, wondering why the person on the other line wants to get ahold of me so bad.

"Gay fag", he says to me, the notes of his voice vaguely familiar but I would never be able to put the voice to a face.

"What? I can't hear you!" I yell moderately, memories flashing back to IISuperwomanII, the video I watched a couple months ago was how she would survive a horror movie. Talking to the killer over the phone, she crumples paper while repeating "Who is this? I can't hear you! You need to speak up!". Soon the killer gets irritated and hangs up, out of complete frustration and she wins.

The deepest part of me was hoping a simple action like this was all I needed to escape and it was. Short conversation got under his skin, knowing it would be useless calling me over the phone and with that, all my stress is gone like the Autumn wind.

With Cady Groves playing awkwardly through the room, atmosphere as tough as stone, feeling a deep pit in my stomach, like something's wrong. My problem was I knew why I felt the way I did, thoughts of how I just let it happen, having absolutely no control over what happened. I know myself too well and I know I can't leave this alone like I should. Taking the path some would say is foolish but that's just me.

"It would be a lot easier if you text me", I send to the person who peaked my curiosity, peeked my yearning for wanting to pick their brain.

"Your a gay fag." He responds, every second taken seems like a millennium passing. Expecting his words to sting, I wait for the pain, as it arrives in a four word text, it doesn't seem so bad.I can feel my inner author slapping him in the face but alas, I am only found behind a small screen that has consumed this generation.

"You don't need to tell me this, and it's 'you're", I spit back, his misuse of grammar hurting me more than what he was trying to convey.

"No one likes you." A simple phrase that is easy to understand but the way he uses it, has no meaning. No backbone to enforce the words he tries to cut me with, I'm left unfazed.

"And yet you put time aside to tell me this. You obviously care enough to tell me and plus you don't know me." Our words going at war and I know mine will bring victory, a rather small one but anything counts in my mind.

"Yeah your name is hunter." A sentence that eats away at me, so many mistakes that's just not enough. Showing me no respect and using my name purely as a verb, knowing I'm much more than the title, I sadly have to give him props for using "your" correctly this time.

"Everyone know that, tell me something that actually means something." I say, my blood slowly boiling and I know I'll get carried away like usual. When he never responds to me, a peace within me snaps. Light being a product from the fire that I always burn so heavily, with newfound determination, I have to be a perfect balance. I feel like I need to be emotional but to the point where I remain sober, not being destroyed by the rage that is my alcohol.

What I say here on in, must be my own words from the heart, the only way I can feel harmony with myself. I feel like it's my job to teach people who are closed into the small minded universe and make them understand the world they live in, I have to at least try to make a change. Because I want to be the last person bullied for sexuality, I want people to be more accepting. In the end my soliloquy could mean nothing to the person reading it, but there is a small chance they can look into their heart and see the bad in themselves and make a better future for everyone, at least that's what I keep telling myself.

"You obviously know me from one side. An outsider looking into my world, the truth is I have friends. I'm popular and well known, just not in the sense you attach to me. Yes, It's true, I'm gay. I'm attracted to guys, something that will never change but that isn't something to be ashamed of. I wear the rainbow with pride and I love who I am and who i've become. I've learned to not be afraid of the shadows and to not live in the dark. If you did know me well you would know that i've struggled with more things that some people will hold for the rest of their lives and never get past it. Honestly, I don't need someone telling me who I am and speaking words of Injustice." I start, I'm the musician and the clicking of the keys is my instrument.

"So next time when you insult someone who's gay, at least know them for who they are and not what you see on the surface. Actually care about what they love and the long miles traveled on broken glass. Because if you don't know more than just my name, you don't know me at all." Words from my heart pouring out for his eyes to see.

"The only reason I could think of you saying that to me is you're trying to impress your friends or parents. Maybe your family is super religious and you grew up that way. Maybe you're gay like me and in the closet because you're terrified of the thought of people hating you. But in all honesty, I don't know your story but I'm sorry that you're restricted, trying to shoot someone with a bulletproof heart. I won't change myself for others because if I do, I learn nothing." I end my train of thought but it's still lacking what I know well. My airy and lovable way to end a conversation despite the depth or the context.

"Anyway, I hope you have an amazing night and I'll probably see you tomorrow, goodnight!!!" I end, he never replied but I hope he read my text and didn't just throw it out. Knowing that my words could have an impact on someone's tomorrow feels life changing. Apart of the thoughts that cloud your mind as you try to fall asleep.

So yes, I'm gay and I feel like if you were born this way, you're locked into a lifetime of being a target. At least for me, but it's up to you. If you're willing to befriend the only gay kid in your grade that sits alone in every class, waiting for the moment to get home and cry to someone who will never listen, then you may have just saved a life. For me, that's life changing.