The time has come for my periodic ventilation. As always, my sexual orientation has pushed my life to a state of stress beyond what my emotional and mental limits encompass.
There is always a sense of indecision in my mind. Every day I pretend to be straight, even to the people who know who I am, or what I am, I suppose. I wish that I could treat my being gay as just a thing, an illness of mentality. But I feel attached to it, like it’s a part of me. I always say that if I had one wish, it would be to be straight, but more and more I am realizing that I wouldn’t be me anymore, even if the only thing to change about me was my sexual attractions.
I watched the movie X-Men: The Last Stand recently. In the movie, a “cure” is discovered for the mutants of the world. The evolution of their DNA is suppressed so that they can be a part of normal society. The guinea pig for the injection is a mutant who is called Archangel for his massive, white wings. He is the son of a major anti-mutant politician. As he is about to receive the cure, his wings are bound, and he is strapped to an inclined operating table. His father is present, and he encourages Archangel to accept the injection because “It’s what everyone wants.” At the last moment, Archangel bursts out of his bonds and spreads his wings, filling the laboratory. He says that it’s only what his father wants and leaps out of the window, soaring over New York City. In this event, I saw a parallel of myself suppressing my sexuality. It seems sinful to assume that such an immoral part of myself might be comparable to Archangel’s beautiful wings, but at the same time, I like who I am. My sexuality doesn’t seem like an ugly, sinful plague on my soul to me; it feels like me.
For my junior English class, I read the Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne. It’s a story about a woman in a Puritan society who has committed adultery. However, she refuses to incriminate the man who fathered her daughter. Late in the novel, his identity is revealed. When he and she are together, the “sin” between seems more like love and beauty and romance rather than something deserving damnation. A very strong theme in the novel is the backwardness of the Puritan society in that so many of its citizens imprison themselves in the suppression of the things that truly make them happy because, usually, anything that can make them happy is sinful. I’ve forgotten exactly where this was going. I just see so much evidence around me that I should just be me, despite what my religion says and what my family says. I’ve been out of touch with God for a very long time, so I’m obviously analyzing from a worldly point of view. But the world makes me so much happier. It is true that with God, I’m given purpose and joy but it’s of a different kind. One less bright and colorful than what I see gleaming in the dark, boarded-up corners of my mind. All this wishing is never going to get me anywhere. But I still do. I have so many wishes for revelation and direction. All the answers are in God, I know that, but I also know that those aren’t the answers I want. I suppose, in the end, I know what I should do, but I hesitate to abuse and suppress a part of my own self.
What if, one day, it were actually gone. What if I suddenly liked girls. If everything about me stayed the same except for what I found physically attractive, what would be so horrible about that? I could really be just a sensitive straight guy. I could be a really good boyfriend, I could get married and have kids and it would all be totally righteous and lawful and I would never have to worry about keeping secrets from anyone. But when I picture that as my future, it just feels so wrong and out of place. My dad tells me that there’s nothing wrong with my sexual preferences, but he also tells me that I have to resist them. He claims it’s the same as a married man being attracted to a woman who isn’t his wife. But it isn’t. It’s not, because that married man gets to go home to his wife whom he is allowed to love and be with. I, on the other hand, would spend my life alone aside from my friends. I would never feel romance or love or sex or anything involving that intimate closeness to another human. I want so badly to just let everything go and be who I am. But it can’t happen. No matter how much I wish, it will always be a sin for me to love another man.
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Wicker Chair's Journal
This is where I vent...a lot. Forgive me for my whiny-ness.
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