Writing a LGBT story

So I found this on my computer from about last year and honestly it was before I came out, or a little after can't remember :dry:. Anyways I was wondering if what you thought of it the main part of it right now is the flashback and i know I have to rewrite a few parts to be in past tense but the way i wrote it, it was suppose to be a struggle between him and his memory. If I do write this i don't think I'll make a "book", but more a less a short story (this is about 4 pages in word so far) or novella.

I looked away towards the highway as the cold wind wiped at me, that strong gale stinging my skin turning it a sharp, sore, red, under my flimsy jacket. I grabbed at my coat determined to walk the final four miles to my friend’s house. The magnificently beautiful house with its white siding, its sloped roof, the porch with a roof, and to top it all off it is on top of a slight hill so one must crane their neck to get a glimpse of its beauty. I started to day-dream of finally getting there having his mom give me a hug, his dad hand me a towel while smiling; it’s a surprise he can smoke a pipe and smile at the same time. A car flies by laying on the horn scaring me out of my day-dream, right into reality. Truth is, running away isn’t as fun as you may think, especially at night, during late fall, while it is raining cats and dogs.
As I begin to walk once more I shiver in the cold wondering what in earth was I thinking, if I go to my friend’s house, tell them, they would simply ship me home. I stopped in my tracks and stood completely still unaware of what to do, what to say, where to even go. My legs start to shake uncontrollably from the cold, bitter biting, wind causing my balance to falter, my vision to fail, and for me to hit the dirt.
My mind wanders back to the small house, the always changing atmosphere, where I once lived. It started as if I was back home, back in my room, my heart beating fast the surroundings and sharp details seem to be a bit blurred. I wasn’t in control, my body would move on its own, I would talk when I felt I never should repeat the words I spoke a mere three hours ago.
My head is screaming, and I feel like crying, but this is a memory, this isn’t right now, this is a fragment of my past. Being here, in my room, seems so surreal, this isn’t how it started; is it? My hands, that I still can’t control, begin to shake I look down at them clench and unclench. I stand with my eyes closed and walk to the door allowing my feet to work almost involuntary. My shaking hands now reaching for the handle, it seems to turn easier than usual.
I look at my step-father analyzing his mixed messages of supporting and bashing homosexuals, unaware of the consequences of telling him my secret. I then turn to look at my mother her lovely sleepy expression that is always on her face when in her big rocking chair, the way her hair lays perfectly over her one eye, and the way a few gray hairs streak through her brown hair to show maturity and wisdom. Wisdom she passed onto her son.
My own hair is the color of hers, she used to get so flustered when I would come home looking more like a little brown dog than her little boy. My eyes turn over to my step-father his taller figure and longer face; he wasn’t anything like me or my mom.
My mother seemed to chase after the rare ones, not necessarily a rare species, but ones with rare personalities. She always knew what she was looking for and found him just less than sixteen years ago, right before I was born. As my mind began to wander my feet started to move, my toes dug into the carpet as if they knew what was to come. My life would drastically be changed by what came next.
I blink longer than usual trying to hold in the tears that were doomed to fall. My eyes opened once more and I look around again my mouth opening just enough to murmur something to my father. He simply turns and looks at me with a quizzical look on his face.
“What did you say, son?” he asks.
I breathe in deeply “I wanted to get your attention because I have to tell you something,” I say my heart beating faster and faster. The pads on my feet start to get cold, a numb cold; a painless cold. “Father I’ve been thinking of something to say to you, because everyone else knows. I’m not sure how to say it so I guess I should just blurt it out right?” I say as I turn to my mother who has her eyes peeled wide open hoping I’m not about to do what she knows will come next. I was always one to push the limits, but this was across the line. I begin to scream at myself to not do it to turn around and say forget it but my mouth opens once again, my eyes closed tight. “I’m, I’m gay.” I stutter. I turn from my memory and try to forcefully forget what comes next, but it’s to damaging to forget, the pain is just too real.
I once again open my eyes to find myself yelling, the whole area seemed to be on mute all I could hear was my own thoughts, now and then, racing through my mind. My backpack slung over my shoulder, my mother crying as she tries to pick up the pieces of the shattered picture frame. My father blocks my way and shoves me. My mother runs to her room crying, the tears forming a trail from behind me to beside the TV and then to her room.
My father shoves me once more causing me to topple over the coffee table, my mother’s candles fly all over, and me to land on the corner of my mother’s now toppled candle holder. My hand rushes up to meet with my head just in the nick of time. I yell loudly as my digits gets crushed in-between the candle holder and my head. I get up quickly holding onto my fingers careful not to hurt it more as I glare at my father, from his expression he looked kind of sorry.
I allow my feet to walk me to the door my eyes still glaring at him as I open the handle with my unhurt hand. I quickly shuffle out of the house, the house I grew up in, the house filled with so many good and bad memories. I close my eyes not wanting to watch what happens next.
“Faggot.” Is all my father said. I look at him wanting to just scream at him, show him NOTHING has changed, and prove to him I am still what I used to be, but I just keep walking. I wish I could have told him I will never give up on him. But that is a lie, because at that moment, where I just walked away, I gave up on him.
My mind turns into a mess of thoughts, wishes, regrets, everything you could think of, mixed together in a big mixing pot. My head with its short nose and lips like Channing Tatum, and round face began to shake as I tried to stop digging deeper into the memory. My vibrant, green and brown speckled eyes that conveyed my pride, my color, my boldness, my creative side, and also express the pain that’s hidden deep inside me, now also expressed regret; regret for giving up on my father, the one I always looked up to. I felt a hot sliver, almost like a knife, cutting through my tear ducts, onto my face and off of my slightly defined cheekbone into a puddle. I was crying, the first time ever, around my parents, even though my back was to my father. I inhaled deeply, my breathing slightly faltering as my tears flowed down my face. My foot slowly picked up and began to move; time to move on, was the only thought on my mind.
I once again began to scream at myself, I didn’t want to move on, I just wanted my mom to hold me tight, to shush me and tell me everything will be ok. I wanted my father to smile at me and joke with me like usual; what if that will never happen again? I have no idea what I’d do if I lost contact with my parents, they are a major part of my life, and I cannot live without them. Family is – no family should be forever, but it isn’t. Nothing ever lasts forever.
My mind blazes into a tizzy while I walk in the dark passed the old church into an area that is no longer lit by streetlights and houses. My mind, in the flashback, seems to keep going back to what he said; that single two syllable word. Unsure of why I kept thinking of it my mind, now, began to wonder why I took that route, why did I walk through the empty woods instead of the well-lit trailer park. I stopped thinking about it and focused on watching myself move in the dark.
My eyes, accustomed to swimming, may be able to see far underwater, but in the dark they were practically useless.
The light breeze tickled my legs and midsection, it wasn’t really cold, if I remember right, and it was more of a cool feeling. That cool light breeze picked up and turned into a storm within the next half hour. The rain droplets came down, starting with a trickle that dampened my coat, to sliver like droplets impaling my skin. My heart started to race as I watch, I felt sorry for myself, and for once I felt pity towards myself. My own feelings betrayed me; I WAS pitiful.
As my own thoughts began to conflict with each other my mind shutdown; no more thought, no more emotion, just a numb feeling. I watched myself walk down the old highway, down the hill, and onto the new highway, which has been there my whole life. The pads on the bottom of my feet began to throb with my heartbeat. The throbbing didn’t hurt; it was more a comforting throb, although I’m sure my pads were just going numb. Instinctively I longed for that numb feeling, but not physical numb. I wanted my mind to go numb, to go limp, to disappear for an hour, no emotions, to just go through the movements.
The robotic movements of my body walking down the street seemed to scare me; what is life without the emotions? Truth is I wouldn’t want to live without emotions; I would want just to live with the GOOD emotions, not the bad. But one cannot have good emotions without the bad, to have happiness you need sadness. It is natural to have opposites hold together almost like a magnet, but instead of having negative and positive you’d just have one entire thing in limbo.
The thoughts in my head begin to think about them little earth magnets holding the little fragments of us together, pushing away, but then pulling together again almost in unison so they move at the same time; a dance of love. We all follow that dance, pushing against our fears, but pulling them back, simply because they are the key to renewal, the key to triumph, the key to success. I try to think back to a time when I didn’t know about the magnets, when I was young and innocent, but my mind fails to remember. Maybe I can’t recall the past because we live in the present, or maybe because I’m just tired; not physically tired, but emotionally.

Any opinions? Comments?

 

thanks I have it in paragraphs, unsure how to indent in EC, in word it is indented and spaced. This was honestly my worst fear in coming out and I wanted to express that! Show that coming out should not be this frightening, physically or emotionally, and being gay is FINE.