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A few days ago, I was here in the computer room, when my dad comes in to bring up something that was bothering him. He watches the news alot and gets all fired up. Anyway, he comes into the computer room to vent about gay marriages. He wanted to spew his hatred about how "they" were sick in the head and have no sense. It reminds me of this. At one time, sometime this month, I actually convinced myself that dad already knows and that he doesn't want to be told the truth, that it's better I not tell him; this was my rationale for not telling him. Part of me keeps giving him the benefit of the doubt, that maybe I'm being unfair to him for not saying anything, that he'd want me to tell him, then he rants about his hatred about gays and man marrying man and woman marrying woman and how they think they can make babies together. He sounded so awful and I was so offended that anyone would think like this, that my own dad has the freedom to express this while I suppress myself of my lifestyle out of caution. I sat there, saying nothing as he freely vented his opinions. Part of me also believed that he knows and is testing me to see if I'll tell him. I don't know what to think anymore, but I don't trust his reaction. I think it's awful that I can't tell him. I think it's really awful that I let this hold me back, that I'm too cowardly to be open no matter the consequences. I bought an issue of Curve Magazine today [february 2005 volume15#1], and there was a story on page 13 where some woman named Fannyann Eddy was raped and killed because she was out and proud in Sierra Leone. It's not safe in other parts of the world, yet it's still not safe even in North America. I remember how liberated I felt in Vancouver, yet still felt scared. I remember riding the greyhound bus back to live with my parents and the sensation squeezing and constricting me as I got closer and closer to the city where I escaped. Even if I never become the actor I want to be, I can't live my life under my parent's roof and I can't live it in the same province they do. A huge part of me believes I'll never find love or have a happy sex/love life as long as my dad is alive. I keep thinking of his other relatives and other family members, plus friends of family members who I'm closeted with. Then there's work! I'll never be fully actualized as long as I'm closeted. Once you come bursting out, you can't go back. You shed the old self and your real self is birthed. Coming back home, my old skin slithered around me, all rotted flesh trapping me. I don't want to die with this rotting flesh I casted off years ago. While Soaking in Lavendar... - Saturday, Apr. 06, 2019 He Reminded Me of An Incident Years Ago - Monday, Feb. 04, 2019 My Rose-Coloured Glasses are Smashed & I Don’t Want Them Anymore - Sunday, Feb. 03, 2019 It’s Been Awhile - Saturday, Feb. 02, 2019 I Never Needed You. - Thursday, Nov. 27, 2014
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