Untitled - A Short Story (Written When I Was In A Foul Mood!)

how do i come out?

even though most people know, they’re all waiting. all expecting me to just tell people. tell my family that I’m…

…sigh…

it’s just not easy. why does everyone think that it’s easy to do it? i mean, even i’m not a 100 per cent sure if i am or if this is a phase or if i’m bi or whatever? surely, it shouldn’t matter.

and yet, it does. so much so that people make a HUGE deal over it and then you feel guilty because you haven’t made a HUGE deal over it yourself and then you have to tell people which turns, again, into a HUGE deal.

basically, it’s all your fault. it’s your fault that you were born this way. your fault that it took you this long to realise it and then come to terms with it. your fault that when you have told people, you’ve been the one stressing out on it. and then when you do tell, it’s your fault for being true to yourself. basically, you’re the bad guy.

well, that’s how i feel at the moment. the bad guy. and, oh, how wonderful i feel. seriously, i feel like i’m walking on air with joy!

the horrible feeling i have in the pit of my stomach? nah, that’s happiness. the fact i slept so badly last night? excitement. and the fact I was considering making myself be sick, cutting myself or starting to smoke, just to hide the fact that there’s something wrong? overwhelming pleasure. i live for this kind of shit.

surely, i’m the one i should be pleasing. i’m the one who knows when it’s the right time to tell people. surely, I’m the one to know all this. i mean, this is me and surely i’m the best person to know…

so why do people think otherwise?

so why do i feel like the bad guy? like i’m the one in the wrong?

and why do i believe them when they say that?