Psychic Clarity

I awoke at 3am this morning, and as I perused the fridge in search of food, my gaze fell upon a tiny cupcake. And in that instant, that seemingly banal object opened my eyes in a flash of clarity. We all like our comforts in this world. Some get more than most. I often talk about realising the value of a relationship before it's gone; irreplaceable. But sometimes I don't practice what I preach. I have not strived to make life more pleasant for those around me. Instead, I try my hardest to distance myself in hopes of concealing my innermost thoughts and desires. Yes, folks, I'm talking about my family. The memory of that one night in 2003 haunts me. Three years ago, when a certain indescretion came to light, certain sections of my family rallied to confront my homosexuality. I often focus only on what was said, on their efforts to break through my defensive barriers and try and tell me homosexuality is wrong. But when I think of the journey they made to try and save my soul, however misguided they were, I feel the coldness in my heart falter. They came all the way down, in the middle of the night, to try and teach me right from wrong. Bullheaded as I am, stubbornly determined to fight for my rights, I ignored these little signs of care and stuck by my guns. While I am proud that I did stand up to them, fighting back years of misconceptions (gays die of AIDS, apparently) and prejudice, I am appalled that in turn it was I who grew prejudiced towards them. Family functions became a battleground for me to snark and let loose with my sarcastic sting. I refused to open up to anyone even remotely related to me. I grew embittered and cold. As I grew distant, and the entire family tree tried to reach me, that distance continued growing and my frostiness knew no bounds. It is amazing, but when I was living with my parents, I could vanish from sight for days at a time. Even living under the same roof did not hinder my wish for solace. My room was forbidden ground, and I only ventured out at night when the sandman had done his noble work. Now, the years have taken their toll, and I feel an immense sadness at all the things I could have said and done to prevent these rifts from forming. The early days of separation from my family nearly made me turn back and run all the way home. My mum would call every morning and ask me how I was. Like clockwork, every morning at 6:45am, she would call my cellphone as I caught the bus to school. Eventually, I fear she just gave up trying to reach me. She'd always end up crying, and telling me not to give up. I would remain silent, listening, but not budging. Is it too late now? Is it too late for them to change their outdated views on homosexuality? Is it too late for me to regain all these lost moments, when laughter was not an illusion designed to hide the cracks underneath? As dawn approaches, and brings with it a new day, I pray I have not made irreversible mistakes.
Undo all my mistakes. My greatest wish, and my sole regret.