I haven't officially made public my story, but I would like you guys to read it before I make my final decision to come out of the closet...if I decided to (still struggling with my religious beliefs) I believe that most of my friends will read it.

In this world, there are two kinds of people: people that love you and people that hate you. All of my life, I have been putting on a smile for others. Being a good friend, a good Christian, a good son, but now, I've realized that this facade is worthless. I've been living a lie for almost twenty years, and I'm ready to come out with the truth. This is going cost me some friends and even some family members, but I think that there are also going to be those that support my decision. At least, I hope I will have some friends left. Perhaps it is best if I use an anecdote about my life to explain my circumstances...

The moment I tried to walk to my kindergarten classroom in my mother’s high-heeled shoes, I knew something was wrong. I wasn’t an ordinary boy, and it was in my elementary school’s third-grade production of the “Billy Goat’s Gruff” that my suspensions were confirmed; I was born in the wrong body. After all, my request to change my costume from “Billy” to “Betty” did seem a little peculiar to my teacher, but after all, to her, and those around me, I was just a kid, and everyone was convinced that this misconstrued sexual identity would correct itself as I grew older. Unfortunately for them, it didn't; I refused to accept the gender norms constituted by society. In elementary school, all I was concerned about was dancing in the flowers, and secretly, one day, being swept away by the handsome prince I had seen in all of those lovely Disney movies. The more openly I displayed my desire to trade my breeches for a blouse, however, the more concerned my parents became. In fourth grade, to my dismay, I saw my collection of Barbie dolls being sold to the brat next door, and with that, at least to my parents, the end of my days as the little boy standing in the living room with a fairy suit on and curlers in his hair. It was far from the end, though. By the time I was in middle school, I learned that "gay" was no longer just a reference to that one song on West Side Story and that it had nothing to do with being "happy." People criticized the way I talked, behaved, and dressed, and for first time, I really felt that my life was a mistake. Isaac your favorite color can't be pink; Isaac you can't wear that shirt; Isaac you write too neat. It seemed like all that defined who I was, all that made me unique, was wrong. Someone once accussed me of being gay for the way I ate!! Apparently, boys are supposed to pretend that silverware does not exist, chew with their mouths open, and revert to barbarism when eating, but whatever. Bullying was enough to make me lie about who I was, and when confronted with the "are you gay or straight?" question, I would reply that I was straight, that I liked girls, and that I was not the raging homosexual they made me out to be. Besides that, I couldn't betray my religion, or my parents. Mom and Dad had sacrificed too much for me to end up disappointing them. As a Catholic, I somehow got the idea that being gay was nearly equivalent to being a santanist. After all, it was "Adam and Eve, not "Adam and Steve." In any case, I left middle school giving the impression of being the sensitve, not into girls yet guy; People liked me, and I was convinced that by the time I reached highschool, I would become the next metrosexual superstar. I have learned, though, that metro was me just trying to avoid who I really was. The first day of Mr Woody's gifted English class, I entered with a light blue jacket and my English text book. It was there that I learned that I made yet another mistake. I had put one of those light blue covers over my book--the ones you can get from walmart for about about 99 cents--and had been questioned by a classmate about it--that and my "valley girl" accent. I had then realized that yes, I had entered the ninth circle of hell. For four years, I kept my homosexuality secret, even from my closest family and friends, although, I would still make somewhat of a statement with my clothes (I couldn't get rid of them for gosh sakes!! It's like cutting my arm off). Supressing it, however, proved to have dire consequences. I began suffering from depression, anxiety, and I had prayed more times than I can count for God to take these "feelings" away. It never sufficed, though. The suffering became worse and worse, but each day, I was determined to wear a smile, determined to satisfy everyone but myself. That is until today. I've cried too many tears, and I've been lying for too many years. Yes, America....Isaac is GAY.