Homophobia and Hate

I just finished watching The Laramie Project (movie version) with my mom, which prompted us to go into another conversation about my sexuality.

My mom is scared for me, and fear is a natural feeling for her to have for her daughter. We live in a small town, and I am queer. She is terrified for me, and wants me to be more quiet about it so as to not attract any more attention than necessary. Not because she doesn't love me and accept me, but because she is scared of the hate that she knows exists in the world.

She is scared that I don't understand the hate, and that I don't understand how the hate will wear on my soul.

I don't know how to tell her that she doesn't understand.

I can't live in the closet anymore, I can't protect myself with a lie. That is such an oxymoron. I would be trying to protect myself with a lie.

Living a lie wears on my soul, too.

Both actions grate away at my existence: if I hide who I am, I can not live with myself, but if i live who I am other people will hate me for it.

The thing is, if I am in the closet I am tortured and alone. If I am in the open, I will still be tortured, but there will be people who I can reach out to, people who will understand, accept, and share life with me.

I cannot torture myself alone anymore. I cannot live that lie.

For better of for worse, I will continue to live as I am, I will continue to be me, and I will refuse to let anyone else destroy my self image for it.

I do not choose to be queer. That is not a choice. My identity is not a choice. My choice is that I will no longer live in fear.

Finals Week is Hell

I hate finals week. I really, really, just hate finals week. Not with the same brightly burning passion that I hate child abuse or government torture, but more of a dull, consistent ache that eats away at my health and never truly goes away.

This is the point in time where I realize how completely screwed I am in Science, even though I'm working really hard, and on top of that, how I totally forgot we had a take-home-test over the weekend. This is the time where I break down into tears roughly three or four times a day. (Today was three, if you were wondering.)

Most people may think I'm being irrational and stupid. They would look at my mostly-A's-except-for-that-one-C-in-an-Honors-class report card and ask me what the hell my problem is. The thing is, I care about school. I care a huge fucking ton. It's important to me as the one thing I can consistently do well in. I have a talent for soaking up knowledge. Now, I don't always put that talent to good use, and finals week is the time I am given to fully and completely regret it.

Plus, putting the pressure of studying for that many tests in such a short time span doesn't seem fair. Come on, I have ALL of my finals on the same day this time around. That's not fair. That's worse then not fair, that's just plain dirty.

I feel as if I am being kicked when I'm already down. I haven't had a good nights sleep in three weeks (Robotics. It's an obsesion. That and the N.E.R.D. group.) and now this is thrown at me. I'm two nanometers from cracking.

At least I learned enough LabView today to be able to decipher code in a coherent string of thought. That's one victory.