God, I’m so angry…
I’m angry at my parents because they should have known better. Because they should have raised me well. Because for all these years, my brother has been their son and I have only been their son’s brother. For God’s sake, he was 20 when I was 13! I needed them more than he did! But still, they were always focused on him. They still are and he’s 25 now.
I’m angry at my brother because, for some reason, he makes me feel so inferior… Because he’s prettier, straighter, happier than I’ll ever be. He may not have as many dreams as I do, but at least he lives his.
I’m angry at me, because I keep on giving up. Because I don’t have the courage to accept the things I can’t change, the power to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference. Because I’m not strong enough to survive.
I’m angry at my friends, because none of them (except for Lilah, my best friend) really knows me. They think they do, but they really don’t. I’m angry because they all are so open about gay stuff but they still can’t see what’s in front of them. And because I’m afraid I’ll lose them if they ever find out.
I’m angry at George, because he’s been tormenting me for more than 6 years. From the first time I met him, I liked him. I’m angry because he seems to like me too, but I don’t know if it’s my imagination. I’m angry because I think I’ve started falling in love with him again.
I’m angry at you. Because you really don’t know me but you still like me. Because you give me something I haven’t been given before: acceptance. Because you make it easier for me to like boys when I don’t want to. I’m angry at you because I like you.
I’m angry at the world because they don’t understand. They hate my kind, our kind, for no reason. They can’t see that hating a gay / bi person is like hating someone who has blue eyes: they didn’t choose it and can’t change it and it really doesn’t matter that much.
I’m angry at God, because He’s the one who put me through this. Because He made me the way I am and didn’t ask me first. Because I can’t help thinking that He doesn’t really exist, because no true God would discriminate like this: ugly people, pretty people, gay people, straight people, poor people, rich people… I’m angry because I can’t see his damn Grand Design.
I’m angry at life, because it’s so much better than death and yet death seems so god damn more appealing most of the time. Because life gives and takes, but it seems to prefer taking.
I’m angry at everything, because I feel angry and I can’t focus my hatred on something, because I don’t know whose fault this is.
God, I really need to get this out of my system.