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07 December 2000 @ 10:25 pm
Guilty & Gay Fantasies  
While waiting outside of LHS for my mom to come and haul me home, I stood talking to several friends. Or, more accurately, they spoke and I shivered. It was raining and I was cold.
There was a boy there, name unknown, who was gay. He didn't deny it, but spoke freely of it. But he was gay. You have to understand, I'm horribly conservative in this particular area. I personally feel that being gay is a choice, made at some point or another when you are very young. Perhaps a Father hit you. Perhaps your Mother swore at you. For whatever reason, I feel, some people just subconsciously choose to be homosexual.

But anyway, he spoke very casually about his sexual fantasies. I did not want to hear them. I don't like hearing about ANYONE'S fantasies, and people of his sexual orientation I don't even want to think about.

So I stood there silently, watching for my mom's car as he talked about his boyfriend and he watching gay pornography and my friends silently egging him on, and I curled up inside. My stomach had this need to empty itself of all its contents. I bit my tongue so hard that it bled. But I said nothing.

I try not to be homophobic. I really do. I try to refrain from alienation or insult, but if people start getting graphic than I can't control my natural urges. His words continued to flow, his desire for Trent Reznor and other musical artists sounding exactly like a teenybopper pining for a piece of 'NSync. It was pure torture for me, who neither wanted to hear it and could not escape it without appearing extremely rude. So I climbed further and further into my shell, trying to escape the images he spun.

I really and truly did not desire to hear about how a certain concert had practically lifted him to orgasm in a single song - I did not need the details on every pornography on the market.

I stood there, still as a statue. The worms -words- crawl in, the words crawl out, they mess with your mind and you can't spit them out.

It was the only time I've ever been happy to see my mother's green SUV. As I ran to his car, I turned to say good-bye. My eyes went even with his. He had a wistful expression on his face. He knew.

With each raindrop that hit the window, I heard a word. Fruity. Fag. Lesbo. Bi. I closed my eyes and put my hands over my ears.

Guilt is the greatest demon in the world. Especially when you don't know why you feel guilty.
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