My mother began pressing me to talk to her tonight. She seems to think I’m still depressed (I am, but I can’t let her know that I’m too bad). She tried to convince me to stay home at a local university this fall, but I don’t think I can make myself stay. Then again, if I leave, I don’t think I’ll survive. My gay ass deserves to rot. I don’t see what the point in living is, I’m never truly going to be happy, I’m never going to let myself for one reason or another.
Don’t give up. Hang in there and tell your mom the truth, you won’t regret it.
Can’t. She’d want to know why I’m so distraught, and the only reason I’ve got left to say is that I’m a fag and that my only options in life are to life sad and alone or go to hell. At least, according to the fundamentalist view she and my father raised me in.
What do you believe?