Out... or at least I thought.

I told my mom, she misheard me, or so she claims. I told her some shit, then I said that I was gay, and she replied with, no your not.

ANGER LEVEL AT MAX!

I was fucking pissed off royally. I got up, walked in my room SLAMED my door, and locked that son-of-a-bitch. I was so pissed that I knew if I seen her, I would bitch her out like never before, so I just left through my window. I went to my sisters house, its only a few feet away (but it was raining hard), and just sat up there for awhile. I told my little sister, Heather, to go get a car so I could take off, that I needed to get out. I drove to Tulsa, with my collection of gay paraphernalia. All of it, porn, wristbands, books, flag, and magazines. I drove around Tulsa for a couple hours, stopping at the bookstores. I was looking for the new issue of “The Advocate”. Finally I found it at the last bookstore I went to, then I decided that I wanted to be what I’m not, so I needed to be ‘recruited’ by all those fags, so I decided that I needed to find one first, since there wasn’t one in the car – sitting in the driver’s seat! I decided to go down 21st and go to the gay bar, CW’s. Sadly, it was closed, but the lesbian bar was open, but I didn’t want to tempt my straightness so I just drove around Tulsa more. The whole time since I left my older sister’s house I was wearing my pride sweatband, and only took it off at night in the car, the only time it wouldn’t have been seen; and I only took it off then because it was getting a little hot. That made me proud, that I didn’t care who seen me with it, that I actually forgot I had it on a couple times, that I’m starting to show my sexuality some respect.

I got back to my sister’s house, then I just sat around some more, then I went back home, when I knew she would be asleep. Then I asked my little sister what our mom had said to her. And she told me… damn-it I can remember what she told me, but she misheard what I said, or at least what my mom told my sister and what I actually said were different. So I’m going to let my sister tell her, I’m still pissed by the whole thing.

But I just finished up, right before I started to type this, hanging up my pride flag. It’s hanging directly above my bed, it would be hanging on a wall instead if only I have room for it; I have too many posters up.

Nevertheless, I’m officially done with the closet, and tomorrow I’m going to finish killing the fake side of me, the real other side; this is and always has been me.