What If Being Gay, Wasn't Such a Bad Thing?

I slept that night. I didn't take any pills that day. Not because she was almost out of them, but because I felt fine with myself. Like I actually cared about myself.
That was the best sleep I've ever had in my entire life.

I woke up the next day, it felt like the sun was brighter than it ever was. My body was warmer than fire on a cold day. I didn't do what I usually do, I got out of my bed, took a shower, put on clean clothes, brushed my hair and teeth, then went downstairs.

My father was still upstairs sleeping. My mother was sitting on the counters matching chair, sipping a cup of coffee, watching the news. I'm standing at the bottom step, a few feet behind her. She doesn't know that I'm here yet.

She looks pretty into whatever the news has to show. She murmurs something but I can't hear it.
She smiles and points her finger towards the television screen.

"That's exactly what those queers deserve! Finally some people who are standing up for what's right!"
She takes another sip as I direct my attention towards the news.

I see a man crying, holding a picture. The camera that is filming, zooms in on the picture that he is holding. A picture of the same man and another, whom is slightly tanner, smiling at one another.

They zoom out slowly, and the camera reveals that the man is wearing a shiny, gold ring, on his ring finger.
My mouth hangs in shock.
Who would do such a thing?

I want to know the full story so I take little steps towards my mother.

"What," I brush my arm with my hand. "What was that about?"
I walk closer to her.

She turns her head back and makes a face that shows utter surprise. I'm assuming it's the clothes and brushed hair.

"It was a story about two homosexuals. Somebody with some sense!, murdered his fiancé," she steadies her hands on her cup of joe.
"He got what he needed though. The less in this world, the better."

Suddenly, my perfect, happy, Care free day became a damper when my mother made that remark. I felt hurt in my stomach and tears in the back of my eyes.

"Your hair and wardrobe looks good on you today, all you need is a little eyeliner and mascara, then you would look stunning. Why don't you go upstairs and look in my cupboard in my bathroom. There's an eye penc-"

"Mom, why do you not like gays?"
I cut her off with my words.
I stand completely still, frowning at her.

"Well honey," she laughs a bit. "Their an embarrassment to society. Their an embarrassment to God himself." She raised from her seat and walks towards sink. Taking her coffee cup off of the counter top, she washes it.

"God made man for woman and woman for man, not woman for woman and man for man. It's just socially unacceptable." She places her cup in the kitchen cupboard.

I feel a tear trickling down my cheek. I sit down by the counter and stare into space.

"Honey, are you alright?" I snap out of my daze, sniffling.

I shake my head.
"No. No I'm not alright. I'm not alright with you."
Her eyebrows raise and eyes widen.
"Why? What am I not doing?" She sits down next to me. I face away from her, not wanting to look her in the eyes.
"The way you treat gays. It's not right." I look at her now.
Her face changes from sympathy to aggression.
"Don't...Don't tell me you feel sympathy for that queer on the television? You know that being gay is a sin and its unearthly!" Her voice shifts in anger.

I don't answer her. I just turn away.
"Answer me when I ask you a question!" She yells into my ear.

I rise up from my seat faster than I had ever did.
"I DO FEEL SYMPATHY FOR THEM MOTHER BECAUSE IM GAY!," I pause. She looks at me with a tilted head.
"I AM GAY MOM! IM A QUEER!" She stays silent.
Feeling confident, I walk closer to her. She slowly rises from her seat.

"And I don't feel a single bit of regret, of terror, of sadness because God loves me. He loves all his children, created in heaven." I'm inches away from her face.
She flares her nostrils, and suddenly she breaks.

"YOU SHOULD FEEL REGRET, TERROR, AND SAD BECAUSE GOD DOESN'T LOVE YOU! YOU ARE NOT A CHILD CREATED BY GOD, IN HEAVEN, YOU ARE A CHILD CREATED BY SATAN, IN FRONT OF HELLS GATES!. YOU ARE A MONSTER JUST LIKE HIM!"

Though you think I should feel frightened, I actually feel quite confident because I know that all of the things that come out of her mouth are lies.

"No, mother. It seems you got it all wrong. I'm not the monster...you are. You were the one created by Satan, guarded at Hells gates. The monster is you, though you were blinded by your demonic ways."

She stomps towards the front door. Opens it, roughly. A breeze comes through, and it hits my face.

"What's going on dear?" My father stands at the last step, confused and tired.
My mother completely ignores him.
I don't know what to say so I just simply stay.

"GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE NOW!" She points towards the emptiness that is outside.
"Honey, what are you doing?"
My dad walks beside my mother.
"Gladly." I say to mother as I exit the house.
"Sweetheart! Wait!" My father choses after me as I storm out. I don't even know where to go.
I turn around to face him.

"Why is your mother shunning you? Do you want me to talk to her? I can convince her to let you stay."
I move a stand of hair out of my face. The wind blows pushing back to my face again.

"It won't be any help. She doesn't accept me." A tear rolls down my already tear stained face.
"Accept you in what?" He takes my hand.
"I'm gay, dad." More tears roll down and I gravitate towards my father as he embraces me in a hug. I cry on his shoulder.
A few seconds pass until he speaks again.
"I know, sweetheart. I know you're gay. I've known since you were fifteen years old."

I sniffle and pick my head up from his shoulder.
"How," I sniffle again. "How did you know?"

"I see the way you look at other teenage girls your age. You like girls....and that's okay." He smiles.

"Please don't make me go back in there." I nod my head towards our- well his and my mothers house.

"I won't. I won't let your mother rip your head to shreds." He chuckles a bit and I do the same.

"But..where will I go?" I ask softly.
He takes a breath.

"I don't know yet. But it will be with people who accept you and support you, I can guarantee that." I smile again. My hair blows in the wind and I keep having to move it away.

"Thanks dad." I hug him. He hugs me back.
"Your welcome baby."

We stand hugging on my driveway for about two more minutes. In the corner of my eye I can see my mother standing, at the window, staring at us. She probably has the most horrid face on right now.
But, I don't care. I don't need my mother. If she can't love me for who I am; a lesbian, I won't love her for who she is; a demonic homophobe.
I'm going to find a place where I will be loved. Not that my father didn't love me, but now he can love me even more.

Have you ever thought about what would happen if being gay wasn't such a bad thing? People wouldn't be forced out of their homes. People wouldn't do crazy acts of violence just because someone was being themselves. The world would honestly be a better place if everyone just accepted everyone for who they were.
We both hop into his 1962 red Cadillac and drive into the blue morning nothingness. The windows are rolled down, the wind blowing in my face. I don't know where were going but I just can't help smiling because I know now that I'm certainly not an abomination, an embarrassment to society or an embarrassment to God.
I'm normal.
I'm myself.
I'm gay.
And that's not a bad thing.
Love is Love.