I was in denial when I was fifteen.
I was in denial because I was being beaten and verbally abused.
I thought they were my mates.
Still they attacked me.
They thought they were being my mates.
Their reason for doing it was because they wanted to make more “manly”.
I fought back several times.
It came back at me ten-fold.
I admit I shifted it back onto somebody else to distract the “mates”.
I now feel the shame of my past actions.
It wasn’t right.
I don’t want to be forgiven.
That sin has to stay singed into my mind.
One teacher asked me whether I was interested in men.
I ran away from the truth.
I would play by myself.
I would hurt by myself.
My mouth would be covered in my fresh blood.
I started to sleep heavily and dream deeply.
I would dream of swimming with other men.
All the men were naked in the dream.
One day it went too far with the abuse.
I hit him with my head and left for class.
He caught up with me and threw the stone at me.
I finally crumbled.
It would take another year to admit I wanted to hurt myself.
It was another year that I finally admitted my attractions to my sex.
I would make new friends.
I would face heartbreak.
I would walk the scene until I lost faith in its glam and glitter.
I would be pleasured by strangers and yet find no love.
Nearly twenty-five and I am still nowhere close to being satisfied with myself.
The day I have no regrets or dreams is the day I die.