Psychic Bitterness

Sometimes, all I want to do is shake each and every one of my family members. Shake them until the disconnected neurons in those hard heads somehow manage to fall into place and they understand why I am this way. There are days when I look them in the eye, and inside I die a little more. Would it kill them to accept that I'm just a boy who happens to love other boys? Does it really make a difference? When we die, would gender still matter? When we love, do we place conditions on such love? 'Be perfect, or I won't love you'. I can go to family functions, all that crappy stuff, and I'll just blend into the shadows, melt away so I don't have to face them and their denials. I'm starting to dread the coming Hari Raya celebrations. They can live with their deluded lies, but I can't. It's been years, and I've just stopped counting. Ever since they found out I'm gay, I've been marked as the good-for-nothing, the black sheep in the family. All the good grades I was getting in school stopped. All the family bonding stuff stopped. Conversations became awkward, and more often than not, I would just shrug my shoulders sadly and walk away in silent resignation. In my head, there's this constant video of what life could have been like if I'd stood up to them all those years ago, when that disastrous relationship was forced into the spotlight by my misplaced trust. The entire family confronted me with their misguided beliefs, proclaiming in righteous indignation that I was an abomination before God, that Satan would hold my hand as I walked down my chosen path of fire and brimstone. I wanted so much to scream at them. Even now, years after, the pain lingers in my soul, burning my heart every time I go home, or everytime there's some gathering. I cannot look at this people, they who worship words from a time long ago more than they worship their God. I cringe when I face them, and I cannot describe the emotion that surges through my being. Rage, pain, misery, longing, that feeling of being left out. Sometimes, I do wonder. Had I been from the same gene pool, would that have made a difference? In so many ways, I feel left out from them. More than that, sometimes I just wish to be that little boy again, the one whose heart was untouched by prejudice and was too innocent to be hurt by love. Yes, love hurts. Especially when one is condemned for loving in the first place. But then again, even as a little boy, I was hurt. So what does it matter? After all this time, I should be immune. I don't know what they know, how much they know...it's not enough for them to acknowledge me. Sometimes when I see the knowing glances exchanged between the adults, I just want to stand up and let the anger flow and overwhelm me. I've tried everything I know to make them see, but they're blinded by their ignorance. I had hope, when I fell sick and was stuck in that damned hospital that they'd finally see that I am human, not some perverted demon corrupted by lust. That hope turned to dust soon after. And now I find myself connected to these people by a mere thread. Sure, they reach out to me in small ways, like inviting me over and stuff, but that doesn't change the facts. I know my place, and it's not in this circle where perfection is a requirement. I am not perfect. I do believe in God, and I do pray to him. I know in my heart, that we who love unconditionally and help others freely will one day receive His blessing. But I cannot sit and stare at this circle of strangers who think they hold the answers to life because they helped create it. I do not wish to go this year. There's too much water under the bridge. Each year puts a little more distance between me and them. But no amount of distance or time will dull the pain that I endured when they drowned me in endless guilt and self-hate. It took me years to get over that. To see that I was worth something. Even today, sitting here in my room, I don't feel worthy. It is not something obvious, not in the way I live my life, but it's there nonetheless. A nagging suspicion at the back of my mind, like that backache you just can't seem to get rid of. After they were done with the shock and anger, they tried the denial route. Hey, when all else fails, deny. So now every girl I bring home is my new girlfriend. That my homosexuality was just a 'phase'. Right. I will be the first to admit that I'm not a good liar. I can't lie very well now, although I was pretty accomplished when I was younger. That skill rusted when I decided to face up to reality. So I did. I stopped lying to myself, I got into relationships, and hell followed. WHen I'm outside in company, I present a smooth, charming and flirtatious image for the world to see. But all these emotions are locked up tight in my chest, and I hardly allow them to touch my aura of calmness. I seldom lose my cool in public, and even then it takes a lot to fire me up enough that I explode. More often than not, I'll just bottle it somewhere and throw it in the closet. I think I might have to disappoint Seif again today. Not a good feeling to be disappointing my best friend. The world has moved on, but I'm stuck facing the same old demons. The forms have changed, but the essences remain the same. Demons of hate and ignorance in new guises. I will never forget that day as long as I live. I sat on the couch while the family blasted me to pieces, burning with holy might while I, the perceived devil, died a slow death. Maybe they were right after all. Maybe KIT was right. His words of eternal pain, "You don't deserve to have anyone." I bow my head in silent defeat, and bitterness colours my aura, darkening it a little more as each day draws to a close.
They don't know what it's like. They don't understand the power of their strike.