Hiding In My Closet

Ever since I can remember, I’ve been different from other kids. I liked girls. I don’t know what is was about them that I liked so much. They were so beautiful and sweet, much sweeter than any guy. I was always taught that stuff like that was wrong.

(I wrote this for my English class and read it for them as my project, I didn’t change a thing in it, so it’s mainly talking to people who have seen me in person. I just thought I would share it and see what other people thought of it on the site.)

Ever since I can remember, I’ve been different from other kids. I liked girls. I don’t know what is was about them that I liked so much. They were so beautiful and sweet, much sweeter than any guy. I was always taught that stuff like that was wrong. I never really knew why, I didn’t ever ask. As a child I let my parents and elders force their opinions on me just like any other child at that age does. That is, until I could develop my own.
Back then I didn’t know that there was such a thing as a lesbian. And to even think or speak of it was wrong. That town was full of no sin. That was also around the time when my parents fought every wakening minute of the day, and I got in trouble for breathing too loud.
I moved to Borger, Texas the summer after my 5th grade year. I guess you could say I was behind all the other kids. I didn’t know as much about life yet. I hadn’t matured. Yeah, that’s a better way to put it. I spent my entire summer running around the streets of Stinnett where my dad’s mom and grandmother lived. He was supposed to have me, but he had more important things to do than to mess around with my sister and I. My summer ended shortly. I dreaded going to school in Borger. I just knew I would hate it and would never have any friends.
The first couple of weeks were okay. I got in with a small group of girls. They were sort of sluty, but I didn’t mind that. At the time I was just looking for acceptance. Nothing else mattered to me. That’s when I first saw her. She had long, curly brown hair, tight blue jeans on and a tight shirt. What I didn’t know was that she would be the one who changed me for the rest of my life. She was the one who would make a difference in me.
Eventually I moved down to the “losers” group. My seventh grade year was a tad bit better than my 6th. Only now I was popular among the losers. I liked it; at least I wasn’t a nobody anymore. I was 1st and 2nd chair on my trumpet in band, and I finally got the guy I wanted to be with for so long. My little sister Jessica was friends with Tasha. They were always together. I didn’t like her too much back then, I just thought she was really pretty. She hated me because of my best friend, Jennifer. Jennifer told her that I said a lot of shit about her, and she told me a lot of shit she said about me. Later on that year I started liking her more though.
Finally, my 8th grade year came. I was so happy then. I wasn’t a nobody anymore, and my boyfriend and me were going on 6 months. He introduced me to his best friend, Alex, who I later became good friends with. We talked a lot, and I developed a crush on him. My boyfriend was in Colorado on a skiing trip for the Christmas break. Alex asked me to come over for a while, so, not knowing why, I snuck out and went.
That night changed me. Ever since he let me in his room and locked the door behind me. I was trapped, I couldn’t breathe. There was no escape. I swore to myself that from then on I would never be with another guy as long as a lived. I hated the sight of them. I hated the smell of them. I hated everything about them. But most of all, I hated myself because I let it happen.
For a while I didn’t like anybody. It was like… I don’t know. I just didn’t have an interest in anything like that. I was going through such a hard time. I couldn’t tell if I was hurt because of what he had done to me, or because it was my fault that it happened. All I knew was that I wanted to get away from it all. For about 5 months after that, I sat in my room night after night writing suicide letters and trying to keep myself sane. I would cut myself, attempting to escape myself. I couldn’t even look at myself anymore. I hated breathing. I kept to myself mostly, but I talked to Tasha a lot. She was sort of in the same situation, only a little different. I guess when two people are both suffering, they do each other some good. I didn’t bother reaching out to anyone else though.
I had a date set to kill myself ready and everything. April 25th, my mother’s birthday. My other friend, Aly, had read that letter and found out about it. She told Tasha. I got suspended from school because they didn’t want such a threat around the other kids. Tasha came over after she got home from school. She walked in just in time.
After that I was a little better. Tasha was there for me from then on. We were inseparable. I didn’t know what it was, but I had some sort of weird feeling for her. I moved here that summer. I moved away from the life I had made and broken. I knew things weren’t ever going to be the same between her and me again. I was shattered. Not only did I lose my life, but I thought I was going to lose the only person who cared about me anymore.
I got worse when she started dating her ex boyfriend, Allen again. I hated him more than anything. I wanted to tell her so badly how I felt about her, but I just couldn’t. I just wanted her to be happy. And if her being with him made her happy, then I wouldn’t interfere. One day the subject of me liking her came up. She told me that she felt the same way about me, and that she would leave Allen for me. So, she did, and we got together. I guess I did it then because I wanted something to live for.
Everyone found out about us, and immediately stopped talking to me. They criticized me for being who I was. And all I wanted was to live and be happy. Just like they were. My family found out eventually, and they disowned me. My dad, who hardly ever talked to me before, stopped talking to me period. Everyone hated Tasha too because they thought she had made me that way. The truth was, I was just hiding in my darkened closet.
Everyone still hates me for who and what I am. I get spat on, called names, pushed around, beaten up, everything. I love her more than anything in the world. She is my world. She saved me from myself. If people could just understand how it is instead of saying “ew…” when they hear it, maybe they wouldn’t hate me so much. I want to tell the world what she’s done for me, but if the people here knew. I know I don’t have any friends here, I might have some one-day, but I don’t want to ruin the chances of that. I’ve seen what it’s done to my past relationships with others.
I just wish that people could understand. But I know they never will. I’m just so tired of hiding myself; hiding the reason that I’m still here and breathing. I’m human, and I need to be loved just like everybody else does, but I will not seek acceptance in those who hate who and what I am. So I’ll wait, and I’ll keep waiting until people can see that I’m normal, just as they are. I’m sure after everyone hears this they won’t act the same way towards me anymore. But that’s all right with me. I want to be accepted for who I am, not what everyone wants me to be.

By DeathAwaitsMe

I'm 15 years old, I live in Amarillo, Texas. I'm a lesbian. I have no friends, and I love to write.


  1. If I may be so lucky to be the first to comment on this….
    Death, that’s some serious shit you told your class… you have guts my freind, but I think I always knew that. That’s why I like you so much. I’m sorry to hear all of what happend to you. I hope you find room in your heart to forgive the male sex. We aren’t all the same. Trust me on this. But that guy does deserve to have his balls cut off. I hope they post more of your stuff Death. Keep waiting, soon, you’ll be fully grown, on your own, and no one to judge you but yourself.
    Go, fight, win.

  2. Tee hee! Thanks Creeper, I feel special now. I think it sort of sucks, but that’s my opinion. I could have done better on it, but I just don’t have the time to do shit like that anymore.

  3. remember for every kind soul out there waiting to hand you love on a platter there will also be my kind waiting to take advantage. feeling the pain of others feeds certain types while others feed off of kindness. making yourself obvious makes you a target but i suppose certain people love being targets.

  4. Hey death…lol…sounds kinda like when we met…. “LET MY REIGN OF PAIN BEGIN!!!! MUHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”
    But he is right, some people do feed off of other people like that.
    Alright Mr. YARO…thanks for being honest. Bye bye now.

  5. Haha, you’re funny Creeper. Well, it’s not that I necesarily want to be a target, I just want to be me just as everybody else does. Everyone talks about their freedom to believe what they want, say what they feel and do what they want to do. I am no different than anyone else, but for some reason they think I am. I’m not trying to make myself obvious, but I don’t want to sit back and laugh about a homosexual joke when I know that it makes me mad because I’m gay too. I just want to be proud of what I am, not ashamed.

  6. Sorry to hear u had to go through all that shit, all the best for the future dude.
    I have alot of respect for u ur a truely awesome person, dont let anyone tell u different.
    Be proud of who u are u aren’t different, all those people are just narrow minded losers

    Love xFallenAngelx

  7. i have to repect you casue you didnt let ppl dictate who u would love. i dont have the courage to do that. stop letting them say i cant love because of majority rules. a good life to u. be happy u could say who u r.
    ja ne

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