Why I'm Not an Idiot

Annie

The bruises are visible. There are two on the front of my torso - one on my stomach, one on my chest. The one on my chest is bigger and darker, but both of them are an impressive size and color. They seem to be every hue at once, like a blue-black-purple-red-green-yellow tint on my pale-skinned canvas. This is my brothers' artwork.

Standing in front of my full-length mirror, I turn around and see another mark on my back. It's the biggest and most colorful one of all. I take my pants off and see that there's another one on my leg, just below the knee where one of the twins tripped me. I've heard of people who cut themselves and say that their scars tell stories. I think that's kinda weird, because all it says about them is that they got sad and took it out on themselves. If someone asked, they'd have to tell the story to them using their mouth, not their scars. I think bruises are different, because it's pretty clear by looking at me that I didn't do this to myself. They can tell their own story.

Once upon a time, the Bad Side starts, there lived a young boy named Jake. He was nice, loving, and smart. Then he turned gay, and his brothers did the right thing and beat him up to set him straight. The end.

Cute story.

And I don't know if it's the annoyance at myself for telling my family too soon, or the anger at myself for disappointing them, or the fear of my brothers, or that I'm tired and standing in my underwear in front of a mirror at five a.m. because of them, but something makes me realize that what they did may have not been to hurt me. This is my brothers' messed-up way of showing me they care about me. That they care that I've taken an unfortunate turn in my life. They love me. They want to protect me.

This is why I keep quiet.

*****

At exactly five thirty a.m., Graham texts me saying that he left his bike in my yard, and I just about have a heart attack. But a few seconds later, he says that he already picked it up. My heart stops pounding. I know that nothing inside me has changed. The Good and Bad Sides are still fighting, my heart still races when I know that I can get in trouble, and I'm still not having fun being gay. I don't think I can ever escape that. I knew that coming out wouldn't change much for the better, but a lot of coming out stories say that it feels good. So far, that's kinda bullshit.

I know I feel better when I'm with friends, so I text Graham back and ask him when we can meet up again. He says he maybe can tonight. I say that's great. He asks me if I'm okay. I say I'm fine (which is the truth). He tells me he needs to sleep, and I say me too (which is a lie).

Instead of sleeping, I get up and get a piece of paper and a pencil. Matt said to make a list of things I love. That's all I can think of doing now.

First, I write down everything we said last night.

- Doritos

- Matt and Graham

- Matt Daley and Bobby Canciello

- Cute gay boys

- Cute straight girls (by Graham)

- Tyler Oakley

- Alcohol (eventually)

- Gay bars (eventually)

- Ugly Dolls

Then, I add a few more of my own.

- Guinness World Record Books

- Sock monkeys

- Harry Potter

-Lavender hand soap

- The internet