This Christmas won't be as it used to be. For sure.
I wish I could run around the house singing "I'm Coming Out" with Diana Ross. I wish I could say "Damn, she's hot!" whenever I want. I wish I could talk about all the awesome people I've met at the gay youth club in the city. But I can't. Because my grandfather is a freaking priest!
This sucks. This Christmas sucks. I'm stuck with my conservative Christian family on the other side of the country, far away from my friends. Every day I have to think carefully through everything I'm to say, write or do. Even what I am to think. No matter what is happening, I have to keep myself from saying anything wrong.
I've never been to prison. My knowledge about being in prison is equal to zero. That's why I can't say that this is like prison, for sure. But I've got fantasy. And my fantasy tells me that prison is like being trapped, both physically and mentally. Claustrophobic, and no way to escape, no matter how much you try. It's just to wait until it's all over. If that is how prison is, I feel like I'm in prison right now. And it sucks. But all I can do is to wait for it to go over.
Someday it's all over, right? That little hope for it to end some day, that's what's keeping me up. But for how long?