Nothing Changes.

This is a coming out story, and at the same time. It's not.

Nothing changes.


My name Is Jamie, I was 15 years old, when I first came out.

At an early age, I knew something was, different. Nothing I could put my finger on, until I reached puberty. I began too notice I didn't feel the same way about girls, that every other guy did; While what grasp of sexuality I had at the time, I knew I wasn't 'normal'.

When I reached 15. I realized that I was gay, everything my parents were against. Going from a Straight-A student, too nearly failing my classes, I almost flunked. I ignored what friends I had, and became shut-off. Afraid of what I was, and anyone finding out.

One sunday morning, while making lunch with my mother. We got into a heated argument over homosexuality and why its a sin, and why its wrong and why we're not normal, and what they "deserve". My mum, believes we are nothing less than scum, that should be imprisoned or lined up against a wall and shot.

I told my mum what if I was gay, what would she do.

She told me that she wouldn't have a gay son, because she wouldn't allow it. I told her it wasn't up too her what I was, and she says as a parent she'll decide whats good for me.

I told her straight out, I was gay. I was furious, and blurted it out without thinking. My mum stormed out the kitchen, and I didn't see her for a few hours. I knew I made a mistake, coming out. Like all Mum's and Dad's they share everything, and obviously with our very loud fallout my dad comes in.

My dad walks into my room, and asks me if what mum says is true; and I tell him yes. it is. He tells me how can I know, I'm a child.

I just know, I say to him over and over again. He gets upset, and we both begin shouting.

He hits me across the face; and tells me I'm wrong. He hits me again, and again and asks me if I've told my sisters, or anyone else. He throws me against a wall, and I blackout.

I wake up, with my mum in the room, she sees me awake. and starts yelling, telling me that she wont have a fag for a son, and tells me how dare i bring this "fag nonsense" into her house; she spits on me, and kicks me, over and over. My Mum leaves the room. My dad keeps asking me what I was thinking, telling me I'm nothing but dirt now, and he'll set me right. He hits me again, punching me in the stomach, and forcing me too look at myself in the mirror, screaming too me is this what a fag looks like.

He stops, its getting dark outside.

I can't speak; I can't move, and I'm not crying, I don't know why. all I feel is the blood in my mouth, I can feel my broken ribs, when i try too breathe. I'm on my knees, alone. Wondering why I'm not a normal guy, ending up believing this is what a sinner gets, believing that if your mother kicks you while you're on the floor, that you are good for nothing, after all. That if your dad turns on you because your not what you made him believe, you're nothing at all.

I start crying, quietly, as the day turns. It's quiet in the house now.


The next day, my dad takes me out for milkshake....Tells the neighbors and passers by I was in an accident. Nothing changes.

Nothing at all.


Not even me.


Not one day goes by, I don't think about it, and wonder what I did wrong, because too this day I can't understand what that is, and I end up believing everything she said, was true. I'm not openly gay. I'm accepting of what I am; I'm too scared too let myself out, because if your own parents can't understand...who will?.


So you end up, back inside; With the same confusion, the same doubt and the same feeling in the pit of your stomach that something is wrong.

With a smile on your face, You're suffering inside, you don't even realize how much you're hurting, because its all just a lie now.

Nothing changes.


This is for you, the one who is inside, and can't come out. For the one its not a ray of sunshine, and a solemn relief; that so many coming out stories here are. I'm sorry; Hang on. Just Hang on.


Even in the dark, we're still together. It will change.

 

Thanks Steve, I think I'm way past those now, there was no escape for me, I stayed with them, not because I was forced too, or because I didn't have the guts to run away. No, I'm still here because I'm...I dunno what I am, in the closet?, no longer gay?...scared?...stupid?; broken.


I'm 20 years old now since then, I move out in less than a year. I'm intelligent and well-spoken I dress in the same thing every day, Jeans and a Shirt. I work as a design consultant, and I compete in online-gaming.


Yet I feel like I never went past the age of 15. I'm stuck, being 15, being the that beaten kid on the floor, who can't understand or rationalize what just happened.



I'm trying to piece together, or at least make sense, of the last 5 years since. I didn't even, graduate. I didn't fail, I just, wanted to fuck up everything about my life or future, because I didn't see one, I still don't.


I've been pushing away a part of me, and when you push a part of you away, you're really shoving everything that makes you who you are, away as well. I've become a person that hates myself because of my sexuality, and I've resorted to denigrating its meaning in all parts of my life.

I know I should be more angry at them, but I'm confused at what they want from me?. They think what just happened and what they did is what parents do when kids go through their little "phases". My mum can look at me and ask me if I blame them for anything, and I don't know why i look back at her and say I don't.

I want them to understand what I feel, I want them too feel what I felt, I want mum and dad too see in my eyes, how badly it changed me, how badly i want too be okay with what i am, because all i see it as is a disease, and something that's messing me up.

How can after what they did, how can I still want them, or love them or just, wanna talk to them about whats going on with me?

I'm too scared to be, just too be me, without watching what I say. Or, making sure I don't stare too long at a guy, or, just, be to flamboyant, or over the top, I don't know. or just look at a guy without feeling guilty, and sick about what I'm doing.

I'm so detached, I think what happened was right, I want to be the person they took away from me, and I don't know how to get it back. I don't know whats right and wrong about me anymore, or how I should live as an adult like this; I don't think I can, I don't know if i deserve it.

I can't, live like this anymore, I'm tired of being confused, of being angry, of being too scared to just be me, I'm tired. It pounds against my head, over and over and over and over. You're not good enough.

I don't think I fully understand why I posted my story, or why I post again. For me, doing something like this, seems silly, even now I consider just deleting this lengthy emo-rant because my mum always says you put your emotions aside, and you focus...Well...Focus on what Mum....Being a fuckup?

But there is nothing, after this, If I don't find, what I'm looking for. if its understanding, or help, or compassion, or even just a friendly face. I'll prove them all right, that I was a good for nothing after all, and just put myself out.