Compare your stay in the closet to a place.

Dark, empty. No one there.

The walls were literally closing in - constantly. But it never ended.

 

Hmmmmm

I'm in the closet at this moment.

It feels like I'm in a strange place. With a lot of people who think they know me. But, I'm wearing a mask. Keeping them from seeing who I really am. I feel trapped in cage.

 

Sitting on the moon watching the other planets in awe. The Earth a constant reminder of reality

 

I guess the best way to describe my time in the closet would be on the moon. Dust everywhere, totally alone and waiting for my ride back into population.. I suppose.

 

In the mind of someone being consistently faced with bullshit of different varieties, feeling their misery indirectly...the only being in here at that.

This 'place' obviously describes my (current) life. I've somehow been given the misfortune of (involuntarily) being around people who talk all kinds of shit about lgbt people on pretty much a daily basis. While they aren't talking about -me-, they actually are. Then, on the flip side, I run into people who you'd think would offer help, but instead have their own ignorant reasons and are just as shitty.

 

Here is my version of the closet, a lone star that seems like the darkness is going to take it, it seems like it is going to fade into obscurity, coming out is comparable to a SUPERNOVA.

 

Like the DMV because initially I never thought I'd get out.

 

It was like being on Mars, believing I'm a Martian, knowing earthlings exist on Mars, but not seeing that I am one. I would try to act like a Martian, but it was awkward and flanderized. I didn't really understand how to be a Martian. Unconsciously or subconsciously or whatever, trying to model myself after articles in Klaxon Magazine or whatever, describing things you could do with your partner's proboscis or whether long or short scales were attractive or which zoetrope star had the sexiest fins.

 

It's like being an animal in a zoo cage. People see you and talk about you and think they know everything about you because they read the little sign. But you're stuck in some fake imitation of where you actually want to be, and you can make all the noises you want, no one will understand what you are trying to say, or how you feel, or what you need.

 

It's a room with no windows, but only a steel door. The room itself is equipped with things well enough for me to enjoy myself as is, but if I want more I have to take a peak outside.

 

Panic room

 

A door with a sign saying no straight boys or homophobes allowed to enter...

 

I never thought about it that way, but i guess that my closet is a nice room, like in a tree house or something, with a lot of sheets with informations about trans people, pictures and all the things i bought for my transition. I guess that when i come out to somebody, i just invite that person in.
It's not frightening, or dark, i'm fine in there, but i watch over the window, to see my mom who has no idea that this place exists and it's kind of sad, sometimes, when i'm alone ..

 

Being on a deserted island with the "fun party island" a few feet away.

 

Can words even describe it?

Oppressive, stifling, claustrophobic. A black, airless cave that was swimming in lies and deception - a place where I lost touch with my self and spiralled downward into a pool of depression and self hatred.

 

One flew over the cuckoo's nest

 

Like being frozen in an iceberg for a hundred years.

 

Claustrophobic and dark. But there would be a window, a little slit basically, where I could have peaked out and seen what was going on.

 

I feel as if I'm in a shrinking one-way-glass box. People never seeing me for who I am, but seeing what they want to see in me.