Mairi Prompts

internal homophobia

Internal homophobia; Internalized homophobia refers to negative stereotypes, beliefs, stigma, and prejudice about homosexuality and LGBT people that a person with same-sex attraction turns inward on themselves, whether or not they identify as LGBT.

"I'm straight."
Mattia whispered, he stared at himself in the mirror as he said it, the way his skin crawled and his stomach twisted into knots.

It spoke volumes of his lie.

"Please," He clenched his eyes shut, "I'm straight." He whispered.

His skin broke out in goosebumps at the simple notion of these words. His heart sunk as dread curled in his stomach and pain latched onto his heart. The way he wanted to scratch at his skin because that was wrong—he wasn't gay—he couldn't be gay.

Mattia sucked in a breath.

No, he wasn't gay.

A shudder went through his body but he ignored it because he wasn't.

Mattia knew that; he just had to enforce it.

He wasn't gay.
He wouldn't be.

He could fix it.

Mattia tried to fix it. He really did.
Something was just wrong with his body.

Why? Why couldn't he keep a girl?

Mattia thought they were beautiful.

He couldn't help that when he kissed them disgust curled in his stomach, every time they touched him he couldn't help but shudder, when they tried to even remotely give him pleasure he just couldn't do it.

It began to fester inside him.

This phase because it had to be one, right?

This thing inside him began to eat him up inside. It made him confused, it made his breathing stop, it made him act unusual.
It changed everything for him.

Every girl was just another experiment to him; maybe if they were blonde, brown, redhead, it would fix the issue.

Maybe if they had bigger busts or an ass?

No. No. No.

No, none of these did anything for his attraction.

At night, when he knew everyone was asleep, the only response his body would give would be to the thing he hated the most.

Males.

And when he was done?

He'd lay in bed shaming himself; letting the guilt eat at his heart, letting the tears fall, letting himself choke on his nausea.

He was broken and he couldn't fix it.

No, not this time.

He couldn't use duct tape. He couldn't slap a bandaid on. He couldn't put Neosporin on it because it wasn't a cut. It was him.

It was apart of him.

That scared him.

It scared him to the point he would pretend. He would pretend to find ladies attractive, he would flirt, send a wink their way or say something provocative.

He accepted he was broken, accepted he wasn't normal, he accepted it all but he wouldn't allow himself to be open about it.

It caused misery.

It made him hate himself more.

At night he would choke on his sobs.

In the morning he'd whisper a lie to himself, "I'm straight.."

Did it get better?

It was million dollar question with an answer no one wanted to hear; let alone him.

Mattia stared at himself in the mirror and let out a breath. "Okay," he whispered, "Okay, I can do this." He choked the words out.

Just two words.

You can do this.

It's not that hard stop prolonging it.

Mattia kept eye contact himself in mirror as he willed himself to say those two little words.

"I'm gay," He croaked out, his fingers curling onto the edge of the sink. "I'm gay," He repeated.

The silence was heavy but the feeling was overwhelming.

It was like a floodgate; relief, exhaustion, joy.

It swamped him whole and he leaned onto the sink. Tears began to fall.

"I'm gay." He sobbed, hanging his head low, "I'm gay."

Somehow, he knew, he'd be alright.