On the way home from our first "Pippin" rehearsal, Alan and his girlfriend--we'll call her Kate--sit in the backseat talking, and I'm in the middle row of the minivan next to my three-year-old brother.
I keep repeating in my head, "I'm gay, I'm gay, I'm gay..."
It stops me from thinking. Maybe it makes my gayness feel like a lie when it's used as a... denial mechanism? Painkiller? Thought-stopper?
I'm trying to ignore any emotions at all towards Alan.
After that apology letter I sent him when he was in the hospital on Friday, a thought lurks in my mind, ignored, but given more attention than my feelings.
Do I want to be friends with Alan, or is it just because I'm lonely and I miss our friendship?
I shove it out of my head before I think. My facial expression is as still and intangible as the faces of the presidents of the US carved into whatever mountain it is. Lonely depression seeps into the cracks of my incantation:
"I'm gay I'm gay I'm gay I'm gay I'm gay I'm gay..."