This is not a story about an abused teenager. This is not a story about sexual repression, and this is not a story about rape.
This is, however, my story about a homosexual, or gay, kid. My name is Caleb, and for the first time people will know what it’s like to live in the shoes of a gay boy.
Sitting on my bed, face covered in tears. I struggles to accept something. Something so deep and personal. Something so deep I fears being killed, beaten, bullied, and ridiculed. My deepest fears come to life. I am gay. “No! I’m not!”, I say to myself, spending my life in denial about who I am.
I’ve never fit in. Ever since I was little I knew there was something different about myself, but I never quite knew what, until a couple months ago when I realized he was crushing on a boy in my class. Growing up, I was always told being gay was wrong. Not by my parents or family, but by society.
According to society, it was an abomination. I always tried to fit in with the other boys, to be “one of the guys”, but it never worked. Boys made me nervous and gave me anxiety. I enjoyed being around girls where I could be myself and not get judged by them; however it never stopped the bullying. Boys picked on me because I was always with girls; they told me every day, “What are you a fag?!” “You gotta boyfriend? Are you a little faggot?”
Every day, the words cut deeper into me, until one day I did something I never thought I would. I committed self harm. At the age of 14, I was hurting myself on almost a daily basis. Hating myself, telling myself I was worthless. This all came from not accepting myself. I was consumed with depression and anxiety. I shut everyone out, all my friends and family. They thought I was just shy and wanted to keep to myself. Not even my mother could tell that I was slowly dying inside.
This went on for years. I continued downhill, everyday getting more scars as I cut myself in various places. Then, one day when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, my mother told me we were moving. Shattered, I ran to his room and began doing the only thing I knew to make it all better: cutting myself. However, I didn’t realize that, in the end, this would be a good thing.
About a month later, my family and I moved into our new home. It was smaller than my old one but I didn’t really notice. I shut myself in my room most days and left only for school, where I kept to myself and talked to no one. I got my work done and made decent grades.
When I wasn’t at school, I was in my room, on my laptop or phone, playing Xbox or reading. Never leaving except to eat dinner which I promptly threw up. I put on a good show for my family, hiding what was deep inside. I didn’t want them to know; I wanted to be left alone.
Three months after moving to my new home and school, I thought about committing suicide. This was the lowest point in my life. I honestly thought it would never get better, but then I discovered Youtube. A place where I could let out the pain anonymously and show my creative self. Things slowly started to get better.
Making my way through my freshman year of high school, I met a group of people, a group of people who changed my life forever.
It was a small group of mainly girls and one boy. All gay, except for the boy of course. They took me in and introduced something new to me: Love. I still kept to myself and kept my secret buried deep within me, but I began to be myself, to open up. My new friends knew I was gay and that I was like them but it didn’t matter. They loved me for me and nothing else.
A few months after meeting my new family, I began to accept myself until one day I told my closest friend in the world I was gay. Being who she was, she freaked and was so happy for me. Because she had been there for me from the beginning, this knowledge only brought us closer. Slowly, I began to accept myself more and more, until one day, I told someone else close to me. Someone part of my new family. I typed on my phone, “I’m gay” and handed it to her (Lizzie). She read it, and then I broke down. I cried in her arms for the lunch entire period. Unable to get to my class, Lizzie took me to the guidance office, where I cried for two more hours with my guidance counselor. They showed me love and acceptance and support.
I went home that day, and later that the night, I looked at myself in the mirror and said, “I am gay.” This was the biggest step for me to accept myself. Three months clean from hurting myself, out to three people and myself and Halloween was just around the corner. I was out on Halloween night with Jess. We walked around until I asked if I could tell Jess something. Curious, she said, “Sure.”
“I’m gay,” I whispered. Unsurprised, Jess simply said, “Yeah, I know that.” Oh, I thought. I began to wonder if maybe it wasn’t such a big deal.
As the year progressed to February, I had come out to all my friends and family until one night, February 18, I came out to the world. I posted an edited collage I made on Facebook outing myself to everyone. Freshman year came to a close and I was never so happy. I thought back to the night I wanted to die and was so thankful that I never tried. My family grew and grew; we took in more people like me. We lost some on the way, but we are happy and we are there for each other. We understood each other, and most of all we love each other.
My life has never been never more perfect. There are always bumps along the way and sometimes I relapse into that dark and scary place but I accepted myself and found out more about myself over my Sophomore year, as well. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what it’s like to live the life of a gay boy, or, at least, one version of that life. (There are many more ways and things that can happen) but I was lucky and one day I hope that stories like mine won’t exist anymore. That there will be no more coming out, and that everyone will be accepted for who they are. My journey is only one of many but it’s incredible, but as much as I’ve been through I still have a long way to go. My journey is only beginning.
