He's Concerned About The Wrong Thing

I'm here again.

Telling a story about an event in my life, but this one's different.

Also, this isn't a feel-good story. Rather, an opportunity to get my anger and tears out.

I am gay.

That part I've accepted, and proud of!

But guess what. My parents aren't so accepting.

Instead of telling me that they accept me and will support me, I was told that I didn't need support. At least not anymore than my other siblings.

I told my parents in December 2021, and I still can't stop thinking about their reaction.

Fast forward to a month or so ago, and my Dad comes in my room and angrily starts yelling. I was confused. I was writing a paper for school and next thing I know, I'm getting yelled at.

I was called things like a "queer college kid" and "homo liberal." I couldn't get a word out. He was asking if it's a "mental illness" or what. Also, "I better hope it's a mental illness so that I don't go to hell."

I've only cussed at my Dad a handful of times, only in a fight. But, this time, I couldn't get a word out.

I tried to turn my music full blast, but that didn't stop him. Finally, I lost it. Multiple times I yelled, "If you would shut the fuck up for two seconds, I'll tell you!!" But he kept yelling about how he didn't want to see one of his kids go to hell.

I just want to know why he is more concerned about not seeing his child after death, but not the fact that he is making me slip back into a state of depression.

Or that I had suicidal thoughts before I came out in December.

Or that I just want to be happy.

Or that, now, I want to move out ASAP.

My parents wonder why I spend so much time at school or, when I am home, I spend all my time in my room.

They put on a façade when my friends are over and joke around that "i don't spend time with them anymore" or that "my friends take up all my time."

In reality, I spend time away from home because of them.

My professor told me I was brave!

But, sometimes, I think I made a mistake.

Sometimes I think it would be easier to go back in the closet, stay depressed, and wait until I move out to be happy.

To be gay.